Awaken Mine Soul
by otterlyardent
Summary: The events that occurred over Easter Hols at Malfoy Manor brought about a completely unexpected turn of events. With Hermione under Bellatrix's wand, Draco and his parents realize just how important she will be to their family.
1. Chapter 1

_Authors note: Now we all know why the latest Letters update has been put off so long. I apologize for blowing up your emails. Apparently, my first go at this came through sporting all the code. I cannot apologize enough for that mistake. I hope you enjoy this summer romance. Thanks to Rachel for beta'ing and Nicole, Bailey, and Geneveive for consoling me through failed idea after failed idea and offering genuine love and support while this beast nearly broke my resolve. BIG THANKS to_ Indulgentbookworm _for alerting me immediately to the format issues._

All recognizable characters are the property of JKR. This will be the only disclaimer.

* * *

What's left to say?

These prayers aren't working anymore

Every word shot down in flames

What's left to do with these broken pieces on the floor?

I'm losing my voice calling on you

'Cause I've been shaking

I've been bending backwards till I'm broke

Watching all these dreams go up in smoke

Let beauty come out of ashes

Let beauty come out of ashes

And when I pray to God all I ask is

Can beauty come out of ashes?

Ashes - Celine Dion

* * *

"Master Draco?" Tilly's high, squeaking voice called from behind him. He'd heard her pop into his room, but kept himself facing away, staring out at the grounds being enveloped by nightfall. He'd dealt with a perverse sense of foreboding since his eyes opened this morning. Draco knew nothing good would come from Tilly's sudden appearance.

"Yes, Tilly?" he responded in a quiet voice. He was almost always quiet now. Never seen, never heard. That was the only way to survive living with a monster like the Dark Lord.

"Master is needed in the drawing room, sirs. The snatchers have come and they have three young ones in their possession. Master is needed to identify them." Finally looking away from his window and back to his personal elf, Draco licked his lips nervously.

"Identify?" he whispered while nerves turned his stomach sour. Why would they need him to identify anyone? They never had before and -

"They is thinking that it might be Harry Potter, Master," Draco couldn't hold Tilly's saddened tone against her, as he was feeling much the same. Potter was, as much as Draco was loathe to admit it, their only hope in defeating the Dark Lord. "They has two young men and a pretty young girl, and Master needs to get to the drawing room immediately."

Tilly reached out and gently patted Draco's balled fists and offered him a tremulous smile, offering comfort where she could before giving a tiny curtsy and popping away, leaving Draco alone to face the cacophony in his mind. His movements felt wooden and slow, but he made his way down the stairs and to the drawing room, nevertheless.

His father looked excited. Of course he did. If they were the ones to hand over Saint Potter, all would be forgiven and the Malfoys would once against be favored by the Dark Lord. Though, if Draco were to be entirely honest with himself, he didn't believe for a moment that turning Potter over would change anything. The Dark Lord was a megalomaniac. Everything was for his pleasure, his gain. He cared not for the wizards and witches in his charge, they were merely his implements of destruction.

Draco loosed a heavy sigh just before the doors opened wide, his lovely mother followed by the snatchers and, yes, the Golden Trio being dragged along, Granger by her wild and unruly curls. Draco felt his blood run cold, and the sharp bite of blunt nails digging into the flesh of his palms as he took in the scene before him. He barely heard the gleeful voice of his father, and barely recognized the harsh, cold voice belonging to his mother.

All Draco could focus on was Granger, and how absolutely terrified she was. He could practically taste her fear on his tongue, and even more surprising, it moved something within him. He didn't feel like kicking her when she was already down, he didn't feel like crowing that they had indeed captured Saint Potter, his Weasel side-kick, and Mudblood Granger. Instead, he longed to offer them sanctuary and safety, somehow.

Staring at Potter's huge, shiny, pink, horribly disfigured face - Draco could only try to buy them time. Surely the Order would be arriving any moment, ready to rush in and save the day, right?

After much prompting, Draco finally said, with hesitance he didn't feel coloring his tone, "I can't — I can't be sure." Of course, since it was not the answer his father hoped for and his son's uncertainty weighing heavily on his mind, Lucius begged him to look closer. Where was the Order? Potter's ugly mug might buy them a few minutes, but the second anyone paid remotely any attention to the pair flanking the Chosen One...well, Draco didn't exactly want to think on that too much.

He offered an 'I don't know' to his father's continued questioning - of course it was his scar, stretched and puckered as it was, but maybe if he just kept feigning his uncertainty then the Order would have enough time to - to...Draco sighed as he turned his back on the Trio kneeling on his drawing room floor and stared into the flickering flames contained within the grate. He swallowed thickly when his parents turned their attention to Granger and the Weasel. They were just too recognizable, and while he was sure it was Granger's quick thinking that masked Potter's identity, she'd done nothing for herself or the Weasel.

Draco didn't want to be their harbinger of doom. He didn't want to affirm, in any way, that these three people might just be exactly who everyone thought they were. He wanted them to escape and save the bloody world. Still, when his mother prompted:

"Wait," said Narcissa sharply. "Yes — yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"

"I . . . maybe . . . yeah."

"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" shouted Lucius, striding around the bound prisoners to face Ron. "It's them, Potter's friends — Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name — ?"

"Yeah," said Draco again, his back to the prisoners. "It could be."

No one could know that it took all of his strength not to cry when he uttered those words. He constantly found himself in these horrific situations, with no reasonable way out. Draco had been thinking, plotting in his mind - grandiose rescue attempts that never failed to end with his death as well as the others. He was still staring into the flickering flames when he heard a voice that stopped his heart dead in his chest.

Aunt Bellatrix had come to play.

Foolishly, Draco had hoped that his Aunt would merely frighten them before tossing them in the cellar while they all convened and decided on the best course of action. Of course, he should have learned long ago to never hope for anything - it never seemed to work out for him in the end. When his crazed Aunt laid eyes on the slightly garish looking sword and had flown into a predictable rage, Draco knew there'd be trouble. He'd just begun levitating the unconscious snatchers towards the front entry like ordered, when he heard her cold, but sinisterly gleeful voice demand, "Leave the Mudblood."

Feeling as if someone had just drenched him in ice water, Draco rushed through his task, hurrying back to the drawing room - though he was certain he didn't wish to see what would be happening there. Slowing his pace, Draco returned to the drawing room, mostly unseen, and reclaimed his spot by the fireplace. He refused to face the flames once more, some long-forgotten or oft buried sense of nobility reared its ugly head, and whispered cajolingly through his mind: Granger was better than this. If she was going to suffer through such horror, the very least he could do would be to offer his own silent strength to her. He'd be there if she needed someone familiar to reach out to, even if only in presence alone.

But the moment her first torture-induced cry cut through the otherwise silent Manor - everything changed.

Draco's aristocratic face rapidly paled, as though all the blood had been forcibly and quickly drained from his person. A slow tremor ran up his spine and before long he found himself trembling, staring in wide-eyed horror at the girl he'd tormented and bullied relentlessly for years, writhing under his vicious Aunt's wicked Crucio.

And there was nothing he could do.

Bile filled his mouth and he choked around it before swallowing it back down, relishing in the burning pain. He deserved to feel such pain. Not someone like Granger. She was the epitome of good. All light, and kind, and loyal to a fucking fault.

'Just tell her! It'll stop. Just tell her!' his mind screamed.

A second voice, not unlike his own mental timbre, snarled and growled menacingly at the thought.

Perhaps it was because he was so disturbed and distressed that Draco didn't question the animalistic sounds bouncing around inside his skull, but instead, understood immediately why that wasn't an option. The moment Granger caved, the moment the information Aunt Bella wanted slipped past her lips - she was no longer useful and his Aunt wouldn't be bothered to 'do away with vermin.' The snarling only seemed to grow louder with each of Granger's soul-shattering screams, and when she'd whimper, Draco would hear an echo of it within his mind.

The room seemed to start slowly revolving and a cold, sick sweat soon covered his body. His rational mind was screaming at him to look away, but he couldn't take his eyes off her broken form. He felt his body sway, luckily it was in the direction of his mother - he wasn't sure how he could explain falling to the floor right now. Try as he might, Draco couldn't breathe. It felt like his lungs were being crushed in an iron grip and he just couldn't breathe…

A sharp look was exchanged between Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, when their preternaturally graceful son stumbled into his mother's side. One look at his drawn and ashen face, taking in his rigid and straining muscles, as well as the slick sheen of sweat coating his skin - dread settled into the pit their stomachs, as the first vestiges of panic accelerated their heartbeats. The latent Veela gene in the Malfoy line had been a topic of many discussions between the man and his wife.

Though Lucius himself hadn't held the gene, he oft wondered if his son had. Draco very rarely showed any interest in the plentiful, outright beautiful Pureblood girls they had paraded in front of him from the tender age of five. Narcissa had been the one to inform him of the understanding Draco reached with Miss Parkinson - at first, Lucius had been relieved when he received reports that his son was seemingly courting the girl. Sadly, his wife had informed him, it was only a ruse.

Their son, their pride and joy, was exhausted by the tireless attempts at winning his favor. Apparently, none of the girls appealed to him, most were too daft, others too forward and most likely of loose morals. Pushed beyond his limits, Draco had taken his childhood friend aside and pleaded with her to simply act as if they were together - so the other girls would be forced to stop their maddening attempts on his person. Worry nigged at Lucius then, wouldn't this be behavior similar to an unawakened Veela?

It was a well-known fact that Veela had mates. One person, who was perfect for them in every way. There would never be any other in the Veela's eyes, and they couldn't be bothered by anything less than perfection. As Lucius stared at his son, who was looking more broken, sick and violently angry with each passing second, he recalled what had caused that tiny seed of worry to drop deep into the recesses of his mind and take root.

"And you must be Miss Granger, I presume? Yes, Draco's told me all about you. And your parents... Muggles, aren't they?"

He'd worried then that the only girl his son had ever paid any real attention to, had been the Mudblood girl. Lucius had consoled himself then with the knowledge that while his son had shown an alarming amount of interest in the girl, it was only to torment her. Nothing seemed to give his son more pleasure than annoying the 'Golden Trio.' Granted, Draco rarely paid much mind of the other Mudblood's at Hogwarts, but again Lucius had comforted himself with the certainty his son only did so to achieve his favor. Draco yearned for his approval, and it was easy to tell himself that was what lead his son's motivations.

Now, however, it was absolutely clear. A high-pitched, reedy whine escaped Draco then, easily covered by the girl's wails. A fissure a guilt rippled through Lucius, and once again he met the eyes of his own beloved. They were bright with her concern and determination.

"Cissa?" Lucius whispered, seeking guidance. What were they to do in this situation? Yes, they could let the girl be killed, Draco's Veela hadn't fully Awakened yet - he'd yet to transform. Perhaps, once the undesirable mate was remedied, the Veela would be forced to choose another upon awakening?

But is that a risk you're willing to take? Your son's very life could depend upon it.

"Draco?" Narcissa murmured, keeping a steadying hand on him at all times. When his eyes snapped to hers for the briefest of moments, acknowledging the worry in her tone and immediately seeking to offer reassurance, she gasped at the bleak desolation churning in his normally soft, grey eyes. "Oh my darling boy…" Narcissa whispered tearfully, keeping him close as she turned her glossy, ice blue eyes back to her husband. She held out her hand, wand flat across her palm in offering, "We must do something, Luc."

And Lucius knew she was right.

It was with no small amount of trepidation, illustrated by the shaking of his wand hand, that Lucius aimed his wife's wand at her sister's back and wordlessly cast the killing curse. They could leave none in the Manor on their side alive. As soon as Bella's body hit the floor, Draco catapulted himself across the room to the girl's side. She was whimpering as convulsions wracked her slight frame, the chit had obviously not been eating while on the run.

"Please. Please. Please…" the Granger girl whispered fearfully to his son. "Help me."

Lucius spared one last long glance at his son, tenderly brushing the witch's crazed curls away from her face and dabbing at the trickle of blood from her nose with his sleeve. He heard Draco making soothing noises and his voice telling her she was safe now; it was over - before striding out of the room to deal with the incapacitated snatchers Draco had disposed of, and the werewolf.

Truth be told, he very much looked forward to cutting that beast down. One too many a lingering look at his son, and Draco's near terrified avoidance of the creature told Lucius everything he needed to know. After Greyback breathed his last, the Malfoy patriarch bellowed for Pettigrew. He heard the snivelling man stumble in his race up from the cellar and rolled his eyes. A very petty part of him wondered why he'd waited so long to leave the Dark Lord's side when even the rat seemingly ranked above him in his Lord's eyes.

The look of shock never left Pettigrew's face as he fell, mere metres away from the stairs leading down to where their captives lay in wait. Lucius Malfoy was no ignorant man. He'd fought these children before and had no doubts the other two were cooking up an escape plan already. How best to handle this, admittedly, delicate situation? It was unlikely anyone down below would listen to a word he had to say, and just as unlikely that they would listen to Draco - though perhaps the familiarity and the fact that Draco had tried - ultimately failed, but tried nonetheless - to spare them by not identifying the lot might earn him a modicum of trust.

Still, there was enough bad blood between them - best to send Cissa, he thought.

His eyes were drawn to his family, his only son and wife were kneeling beside the girl, his son's personal house elf standing just behind his shoulder, wringing her hands together while large, silvery tears slid down her cheeks in an endless fashion. A damp cloth rested on the girl's brow and her eyes were screwed tightly shut as her body continued to jerk and twitch painfully with aftershocks.

Draco cast a cooling charm, most likely not the first, on the Granger girl while she clung to his free hand with a vise grip. "Shh. Shh, Hermione. I know. I know it hurts. It will pass soon, I promise. Do you hear me, love? It'll all be over soon. The tremors are already lessening."

Lucius could only stare in mute wonder, as he'd never heard Draco croon to another individual the way he was currently. There was a palpable tenderness in his voice, one that knocked Lucius back a step. His wife looked up to him then and he was horrified to see two glistening tear tracks slicing down her cheeks. With a painful swallow, he beckoned her forth and then stepped into the hall.

Moments later Narcissa joined him, daintily dabbing at her reddened eyes with a handkerchief. Unthinkingly, Lucius drew her into the circle of his embrace and allowed himself a moment to hold her, and offer her the same kind of comfort his son was currently giving the Mud - Muggle-born in their drawing room.

"Oh Lucius, we could have killed her," she whispered miserably. "We could have have killed her and then, when Draco finally reached his majority - he would have withered away right before our eyes, darling!" Lucius tightened the embrace, feeling her womanly form trembling against his own. Small, quiet sobs and sniffles we muffled by his chest.

"Shh, my love. All is well, for the moment. The Granger girl is safe. Draco is safe. Now, we must fight for our safety as a family."

Narcissa pulled back slightly from his embrace, and looked up at him with watery, miserable eyes. Those bright, depthless blue eyes of hers flicked between the stone cold grey of his own, no doubt trying to predict his next move. "What is it that you ask of me, Luc?"

"My darling, Cissa," Lucius murmured, taking a moment to press his lips gently against her own. They hadn't much time, but what with the world crumbling down around their feet, he felt taking a moment with his witch was worth the risk. "You must know we cannot stay here. The Dark Lord will return sooner than later, and we must all be long gone before he does. While I dispose of the bodies -" he ignored her flinch and soldiered on. "I'll need you to parley with Potter. Explain the situation and ask for protection in exchange for information. I'll work out a deal with the Order once he agrees, that will hopefully keep us from Azkaban. You're the only one who has a chance of getting through to them, they'd only try to fight with either myself or Draco. Take Tilly with you, Potter has a soft spot for house elves and Tilly adores Draco. Perhaps…" his voice finally trailed off and Narcissa cupped his cheeks affectionately while nodding her assent.

"Of course, my darling. Keep the wands from the fallen, you need one and the Order might need replacements, as well," she pressed a lingering kiss against his lips, melting against his sturdy frame for only a moment before stepping back and quiet calling out, "Tilly."

The small elf appeared with a soft pop next to her Mistress and awaited orders. "Follow me please, Tilly," Narcissa commanded gently. Whereas Lucius ruled with an iron fist and a cold countenance, she had always been softer, gentler in her ways. And it inspired devotion. Not only Lucius. Not only her son. But all the elves. The peacocks. And generally anyone she spent a fair amount of time with.

The loving couple went their separate ways, Lucius back into the drawing room to remove Bella's corpse and Narcissa, followed by Tilly, descended the into the darkness leading down to the cellar. "Lumos Maxima," Narcissa whispered. It was far too dark for her liking and she could hear the small elf behind her whimpering in fear. The elves loathed the 'dungeons' and Narcissa couldn't blame them. Too much darkness and death lined these walls.

The often neglected torches that lined the walls flared to life and the closer the Malfoy matriarch crept toward the wooden door, the more she could hear from their captives. One was repeatedly yelling for the Granger girl, ignoring those voices around him urging him to calm and quiet down.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE! Why isn't she screaming anymore, Harry? I can't hear anything! What if she's - " here the voice broke on a ragged sob before, "HERMIONE! HERMIONE CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

It was then that Narcissa opened the small panel at eye-level that gave her the ability to see the prisoners, as well as them to see her. "Miss Granger will be fine. Bellatrix is dead," no sense beating around the bush, she thought.

The angry, red-all-over one flew at the door, snarling vitriol at Narcissa. As she cringed away and not-so-discreetly wiped at her face, Lady Malfoy was momentarily struck speechless at the sight of the, very literally, spitting-mad young man. Ignoring his very detailed threats, Narcissa briefly thought it was a shame his family joined the Order, the Weasleys were obviously capable of the darkness the Dark Lord favored.

Narcissa pinned a now normal looking Harry Potter with her stare, "Mr. Potter, I know you have every reason to doubt us and I don't dare argue that point. However, the circumstances have changed. My family and I just killed the Dark Lord's most favored lieutenant, several of his snatchers, his pet werewolf and...well, I'm not really certain what Pettigrew was, but he met the end of my wand as well. All for your Hermione, and our Draco."

Her words were met with silence and she met his wary, emerald stare unflinchingly.

"What do you mean you did it for Hermione and Draco?" Ron all but growled at the Malfoy matriarch. Feeling his insides turn to sludge, it was all he could do to glower at the blonde woman with all the hatred he held for her family and all of their ilk. He hoped it burned.

Narcissa flicked her eyes to his and away, back to Harry, just as quickly. She'd already surmised the nature of this Weasley's feelings for the young girl upstairs and worried for her son, should the red one start trouble. No doubt Miss Granger would never forgive them if he were simply killed. Pity.

"While Bella was trying to get answers," Narcissa spoke to Harry, ignoring the Weasley altogether. "We noticed some startling changes in Draco, and it seems as though the latent Veela gene that runs in the Malfoy family has surfaced."

Harry's eyes widened to a near-comical proportion, he'd spent hours in the library with Hermione - picking her brain and allowing her to proofread his six feet of parchment on the creatures back in fourth year. If Draco was showing signs of Awakening at seventeen - Harry let out a slow, heavy sigh.

"What does that have to do with ANYTHING?!" Ron shouted at Mrs. Malfoy, thumping his fists against the heavy wooden door as he did so.

"Ron," Harry whispered morosely. Ron, hearing his tone and immediately cringing as he turned to face his best mate, he knew whatever was coming would not be happy news.

"Hermione is Draco's mate."

Narcissa and Harry, along with Luna, Dean, Mr Ollivander and Griphook watched as Ron's face turned a startling shade of purple as he glared at his best friend, daring him to repeat those hideous, hurtful words.

"It's true," a soft, lilting voice came from the back of the dank cellar. Luna stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with Harry. Three shocked pairs of eyes flew to her and she nodded, with a dreamy grin on her face. The sprite-like Ravenclaw held a natural, Merlin-given, magical affinity for magical creatures, her opinion was surely damning.

Ron swallowed back the rush of bile that flooded his mouth and shook his head, adamantly denying the possibility. He'd only just realized how deeply he cared for the witch. It couldn't be possible. Not Hermione.

"I wondered for a while," Luna continued in her airy voice. "They never have gotten along, but their auras speak to a much deeper, more primal connection. One of those that soulmates have. The two of them together are nearly blinding."

"Yes," Narcissa hesitatingly agreed with the strange girl and Mr. Potter. "Miss Granger is Draco's mate, and once my husband and I realized this, we turned on the others to guarantee both their safety. My sister would have killed Miss Granger, make no mistake, and if she had - she would have signed my only son's death warrant as well. We could not allow that to happen. I would do anything for my son, Mr. Potter. His happiness is paramount to me."

They were all silent for heartbeat before a loud crack rent through the air.

"Harry Potter," the disheveled elf squeaked in a tiny, terrified voice. "Dobby has come to rescue you."

"That won't be necessary, Dobby," Narcissa's voice cut through the shock his sudden appearance wrought. "Though the attempt alone is very admirable."

The wooden door swung open, fully revealing the mistress of Malfoy Manor and another small house elf, standing protectively in front of it's Lady of the house.

"If you'll all follow me, I'll take you back upstairs. Mr. Ollivander will most likely need assistance. I've done my best to smuggle him extra food and strengthening draughts - however his imprisonment hasn't been kind to his health. Mr. Potter," she waited until he gave her his undivided attention before continuing. "My family will require sanctuary. If we stay, when the Dark Lord returns - he will kill us all."

Momentarily overcome with emotion, the Lady Malfoy covered her mouth as she weeped. She'd experienced terror on level most lesser mortals could never come close to imagining, but the thought of what the Dark Lord would do to her Luc, to her sweet Dragon, was enough to strike down her defenses and left her briefly exposed as the horrendously frightened witch she was.

"So?" Ron snared once again. "Sounds like the perfect way to end this nightmare I'm currently living."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's petulant behavior, though he did understand it. Narcissa found herself oddly thankful for the rude, red one. His vitriol was enough to shake her from her fit of emotion and erect her public mask once more.

"We'll give you all the information we know. We will fight for you. You have my word, though I'm sure it means next to nothing to you. Please, Mr. Potter - don't let our change of heart go to waste."

* * *

They had followed Narcissa up the stairs, while Tilly guarded her Lady's back, Dobby walked protectively in front of Harry. He found the little creatures' loyalty astounding. Those thoughts distracted him just enough to keep his mind from imploding as they traveled to the drawing room. As soon as his eyes fell upon the pair in the center of the room, however, he came to an immediate halt.

Draco Malfoy, looking far paler than Harry could ever remember, cradled Hermione's hand against his cheek and spoke in the softest voice anyone had ever heard from him before, with the exception of his mother. Harry could feel the rage rolling off of Ron, but luckily - or perhaps with a bit more intelligence than he normally displayed, the redhead stayed resolutely silent behind his best friend. Draco suddenly turned his attention to Ron with dangerously narrowed eyes, as if he could sense his hostility and was measuring the threat he made. He tilted his head to the side with a snarl before a soft, ducelt murmur brought his attention back to Hermione.

Narcissa rushed to their left, into the open arms of Lucius Malfoy, who had apparently finished his tasks and returned to watch his son fuss over his mate. The head of the Malfoy family felt hollow inside. He'd listened with rapt attention at his father's knee as he told how Muggles were jealous of their magic and longed to be able to cast it themselves, and how that jealousy had turned to something much darker and brought about the Witch Trials. He'd believed his father, and passed along his teachings to his son that Muggle-borns were not only beneath Pureblooded wizards and witches, but were malicious souls intent on stealing their magic and destroying their families.

While Lucius held his wife, he finally questioned all the things he thought he knew. How could Miss Granger be his son's perfect match? His soul-mate? If she were such a lesser being it would not be possible. Malfoys are known for their conceited nature, but that nature was based in fact. Draco was a powerful wizard, a gifted Legilimens, second in his class only to Miss Granger - Lucius wondered then if Miss Granger would have a gift with Occlumency since it went hand in hand with Legilimency. It would make sense, those complimentary magics.

Nevertheless, Draco was no small catch. Add in his wealth, and wealth of knowledge - Lucius truly believed any young woman would be lucky to call his son their own. And by that token, Miss Granger would have to be of a similar vein. He knew she was bright, brilliant actually. She was passionate in regards to equality, both for the magical community and for all the creatures within it. Loyal. Brave. Kind. And, like his son, powerful.

Lucius decided there and then to try and leave his old prejudices behind. The future happiness of his family depended on it.

Draco helped Granger sit up then, it was a slow process - the extended exposure to the torture curse had left her weak and reeling. He could tell she was confused and wary, but she clung to his hand like he was her only safe harbor in the midst of a terrible storm, and Draco found he didn't want to let go of her, either.

Granger stared him down for a long moment before movement by the door must have caught her attention. "Harry! Ron!" she gasped, her eyes lighting up even as they overflowed. Potter rushed to her other side, scooping up her free hand.

"It's alright, Hermione. You're okay. We're okay," Potter calmly reassured the witch. His presence, so close to Granger, bothered Draco tremendously - but he valiantly fought to bury the foreign emotions. He knew Granger needed this, and thus he would have to allow it. Rolling his eyes at himself, the pale wizard knew if she heard him say something similar, he'd lose his bollocks.

"I know, I know," Granger chanted, leaning against Potter's shoulder as tears of relief poured from her eyes. After a moment, she seemed to notice the missing presence of one of her permanently-attached-at-the-hip goons. "Ron?" Granger croaked, her throat raw and bleeding from all the screaming.

The ginger in question hadn't moved from the doorway, his arms crossed angrily over his chest. His glare never left Draco, though he did manage a low, "I'm fine, Hermione."

"You're obviously not fine!" Granger continued in that painful sounding croak. Draco quietly called Tilly back to his side, bringing Granger's attention back to him momentarily. "Tilly, would you please bring Miss Granger a glass of ice cold water and a pain potion?" The house elf was gone in a snap her long fingers, and back before Hermione could blink.

It was at that moment she realized her hand was still clutching Draco's, her cinnamon eyes had darted towards the redhead still glaring from the doorway. Dropping her eyes to her lap, Hermione gently pulled her hand from his and Harry's, thankful she had the excuse of desperately needing both the potion and the water. Pausing only for a moment to smell the potion and ascertain that is was indeed a very potent pain potion, Hermione swallowed the bitter fluid with a grimace. She then greedily gulped down every drop of the water.

"Would the little mistress likes more water?" Tilly, she had heard Malfoy call her Tilly, asked.

Startled by the little creature calling her mistress, Hermione only shook her head in response before her manners got the best of her. Her voice was still hoarse and raspy when she replied, "No, thank you, Tilly." The graceful curtsy she received in reply was even more disconcerting.

Looking up, Hermione found all eyes on her.

"Beyond the obvious, what's going on?" She asked suspiciously. Her attention bounced between her best friends - who both looked like they'd rather eat a Blast-Ended Skrewt rather than speak up, the Malfoys who each wore a guilty and pained expression, and the rag-tag group of prisoners that had finally moved past Ron and stood on the opposite wall from the elder Malfoys.

"Luna!" Hermione cried happily. "Dean! I'm so happy to see you both!" Dean gave her a brilliant, wide smile that lit up his whole face.

"I'm happy to see you, too, Hermione." Luna replied in her typical dreamy fashion and Hermione couldn't help but grin at the wispy, blonde girl. "And since no-one else seems to be willing to tell you the truth, I will. Draco is a Veela. And you are his mate."

The grin melted away quickly and Hermione felt the beginning stirrings of panic well in her chest. She looked to Malfoy, who also was staring at Luna, with wide eyes and a ghostly pallor. Was he ill? He looked worse than he had in sixth year, and that was quite a feat. Hermione watched as he looked to his parents, the question clear in his eyes. She couldn't contain her gasp of surprise when both Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy nodded, looking guiltier by the second.

"Complete bullshite!" Ron shouted. "I refuse to believe this."

Hermione looked to Ron, (she felt much like she was spectating a tennis match - what with the way her attention kept shifting to and fro) his anger finally making sense. She wasn't sure exactly how to classify their relationship as of late. He'd certainly made his feelings known and apparent on his return, but Hermione had found in the weeks he was gone, the betrayal and hurt outweighed any romantic feelings she may have been nursing. After the Lavender fiasco, Hermione had promised herself if Ronald did anything to cause her that much heartache again, it would be last straw.

And now that she found herself in one of the most awkward situations she'd ever experienced in her relatively young life, she couldn't help but wonder if Bellatrix had indeed shattered her mind and all of this was simply fuelled by her insanity. Slyly, Hermione brought her right hand under her left arm and pinched the skin she found there rather savagely. Her hiss of pain was ignored, however, when Malfoy suddenly slumped to his side and his mother screamed.

"Malfoy?" Hermione called out to him in a panic, scrambling up to her knees as fast as her protesting muscles would allow. Hovering over his too-still form, she called out to him again, this time thinking she had a greater chance of getting through to him if she were more personal with him. "Draco? Draco? Can you hear me?" Fear gripped her heart then and her fingers flew to his jugular, needing to feel around for a moment before she found his weak and thready pulse thrumming against her skin. "He's got a pulse. It's weak though. We have to get him help, Harry," Hermione begged Harry with her eyes, she couldn't just let Malfoy die.

His family had thrown caution to the wind and saved her from Bellatrix, killing the criminally insane witch even though she was family. If they hadn't, who knows what would have happened to her? Hermione would likely be dead and if not dead, then mostly dead. Harry held her stare for a long moment, seemingly searching for something - and he must have found whatever it was he was looking for because Harry swallowed roughly before turning and levelling his emerald stare at Ron.

"Ron - c'mon mate, I know he's a right foul git and I know he's made our lives a living hell for the past seven years, but we can't just let him die. What about Fleur?" And Hermione would have kissed Harry for his quick thinking if that wouldn't have made just about everything a hundred-thousand times worse. "If he's a Veela, she'll know. She'll be best suited to help him if it's true, and we'll all breathe easier if someone we know and trust confirms or denies it."

Hermione could see Ron's jaw clench and unclench as he held Harry's weighty gaze and felt sorry for his poor teeth. She could practically hear them grinding together from quite a ways away. Glaring at Malfoy's supine form in a stony sort of silence, Ron seemingly ignored their pleas. Hermione felt her blood pressure spike and white-hot anger burn through her veins; how dare he?! If anyone had the right to hold a grudge against Malfoy, it was she. Her mouth opened to verbally castrate him but her words died in her throat when the most pitiful wail she'd ever heard echoed about the massive room. In the next moment, Mrs Malfoy was at her son's side, clutching his unresponsive form to her chest.

"Draco, Draco, Draco…" Narcissa whimpered through her desperate sobs, unwilling to let him go, and unable to offer him any help. "My love, my dragon...please. Please, baby. Open your eyes."

Hermione felt her chin tremble, and felt what had to be the millionth tear she had shed that day, slide down her cheek. Turning her horrified and anger filled eyes on Ronald, she was relieved to find him now staring miserably at Malfoy and his mother, his shoulders hunched and his arms limp at his side. When his cornflower blue gaze met her own once more, Hermione knew she'd won. The resignation and apology in his eyes were enough to appease her momentarily, and instead of a verbal lashing, she waited.

"All right, all right," Ron sighed, long and heavy. "We're heading to Shell Cottage. I would floo call my brother, Bill, and ask him to open the floo on his end - it would be safer for Hermione and Malfoy. But with the Ministry utterly compromised, and how easy it is to track floo travel we just can't risk it. Harry and I will hold Malfoy up if Hermione can manage to stand on her own...I-I don't feel comfortable apparating with more than four at a time, I'm afraid I'll splinch us all."

"Dobby can takes you lot, Mister Weasley."

And it was settled.


	2. Chapter 2

When they arrived at Shell Cottage, Bill had been less than impressed by the Malfoy's presence. In fact, it took Hermione pleading and begging him to listen to what happened at Malfoy Manor; when he tried to stubbornly remain firm, just like Ronald had earlier, the bright and somewhat vindictive witch decided to follow Narcissa's lead. Hermione, still weak and twitching at random intervals, crumpled before Bill's eyes and began to sob. Heart-wrenching, soul-crushing sobs.

"T-t-they s-saved m-m-me!" Hermione had thrown everything behind this performance but quickly realized everything she survived that day and the tears were no longer for a show. The witch stared off, over Bill's left shoulder, and struggled to regulate her breathing. A technique she had been taught by a Muggle therapist following her overly stressful (and now that she really thought about it - utterly stupid) the third year.

At least she would be able to speak now without stuttering or hiccupping.

"Please, Bill," the wild-haired witch begged. "I can't let him die."

Bill softened, even while he was looking over Draco's unconscious form, propped up between Ron and Harry. His eyes hardened once again when they landed on the elder Malfoys only a few feet away from their son.

"Mr Malfoy, er, Lucius is the one who rescued me out from under Bellatrix's wand and took care of all the hostiles in and around the Manor while we were there. Narcissa handed her husband her wand to put down her sister. They've paid their dues in blood and tears." With a sniffle, Hermione scrubbed at her sore and grainy-feeling eyes. She reached out and placed a hand on the older Weasley's shoulder.

"There is reason to believe that Draco is a Veela. He needs Fleur and her expertise. And now that the Malfoys have defected from You-Know-Who's ranks…" Hermione's voice trailed off as she sighed. A brief, but morose sound. She took one moment, three beats of her heart, to close her eyes and gather whatever strength she still possessed. When Hermione's eyes reopened, she lifted her chin and stared Bill down in an almost defiant fashion. "The Order has always offered hope and sanctuary to those who've fled His regime. Dumbledore would have taken them in."

* * *

Hours later, Hermione sat at Malfoy's bedside, watching him sleep. Her mind spun in dizzying circles, from all the excitement and information overload of the day.

Fleur had taken one look at him and gasped, "Ee is a Veela?! 'Ow old is 'ee? Eet is too early for ze Awakening, yes?"

Lucius and Narcissa had followed Fleur upstairs to the room that would become their son's, while Bill levitated Malfoy's limp and unresponsive body upstairs and out of sight. Oddly, Hermione had the strongest desire to follow, but she ignored the pull. Instead, she had met the angry and hurt eyes of Ronald, and the weary and worried eyes of Harry, before taking both of them by the hand and pulling them back outside.

Leading the way down to the sand dunes close to the shore and well-within the wards boundary, Hermione plopped down and patted the spaces immediately beside her. Harry sat immediately, Ron stood, staring resolutely out at the crashing waves with a dark expression. The witch sighed, briefly acknowledging that it seemed to be becoming a habit, and let her forehead fall against her denim covered knees.

"You okay, Hermione? There's a lot to take in from today," Harry murmured, peeking over at Ron with narrowed eyes before wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulling her into his side.

Before Hermione could respond, an angry huff came from Ron. Raising her head and staring at him with an incredulous expression, she seethed, "I know all of this is a shock, Ron. But acting like a jealous twat isn't helping anyone. Today has been one of the worst days of my life. I was tortured, I've just found out that I'm a Veela's mate, and it's Malfoy. Do you honestly think acting like this will change anything? No, actually, you know what? If you keep acting this way, something will change - I won't be around you anymore."

Gaping at Hermione like a fish, Ron opened and closed his mouth several times while his face turned mottled in his fury, before he burst out, "WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE TOGETHER HERMIONE!"

"I know you think so," Hermione sighed, letting her forehead drop to her knees once again. "But honestly, Ron? I don't think so. After everything...you left me once, Ron, why wouldn't you do it again when time's got hard?" She swallowed hard, worried about his reaction and Harry's arm tightened around her shoulders.

"I thought we were past that," Ron muttered, with a hint of a petulant whine in his voice.

"It's not something someone can get over that easily, mate," Harry said, shaking his head.

Hermione heard Ron's body hit the sand beside her but refused to lift her head. The dizzy feeling she'd been suffering from since Bellatrix's torture, had yet to subside. "Both of you feel that way?" Remorse colored his words. At their mutual nods of assent, Ron sighed forlornly, "I'm such an arse. I'm really sorry, you both know that right? And Hermione, I might not like it, or him for that matter, but I understand what you're saying."

A quick, small smile tugged the corners of her lips up and Hermione lifted her head from her knees before resting it against Ron's shoulder. "Thanks, Ron. I don't know what I'd do without either of you, boys."

"You'll always have us, Hermione. Always," The strength of Harry's promise sent a shiver down her spine, and she beamed at The-Boy-Who-Lived as grateful tears blurred her vision.

* * *

Three days.

Malfoy had been unconscious for three days.

That is not to say he had been silent and unmoving for the entirety. Oh, no. Shortly after midnight, on the second day - the whimpering began. The sound of his pained whimpers pierced Hermione's heart with a stab of fear and she'd left her place at Malfoy's bedside to find Fleur. The pretty blonde had followed Hermione back to Malfoy's side and looked at his pale face, drawn tight in either pain or fear and sighed.

"Ee will be dreaming now. Reliving ze most important moments in 'is life. I zink he may 'ave to suffer a lot of the darkness again." Fleur brushed damps strands of silverish-blonde hair away from his eyes and offered Hermione a sympathetic smile.

"How are you doing, 'ermione? Eet is so much to take in."

Looking at Malfoy's pinched face, Hermione's heart tumbled for a few beats. She shook her head at the foreign feeling, and answered, "I don't know. It's hard to believe. And I'm worried for him. Is this Veela awakening taking away his choice? I am not who Draco Malfoy would choose, Fleur."

And Hermione felt her heartache in response, a decidedly concerning event.

"I'm already beginning to have feelings for him," she whispered. "And it's terrifying. I've never seen Malfoy as anything more than a vicious bully. But suddenly the thought of him dying, or feeling trapped by this mating bond - it hurts, Fleur. How? How is this possible?"

Fleur moved around the bed and knelt down in front of the wild-haired witch, took her hands within her own and calmed her with her honest and open countenance. "You 'ave always been destined to be 'is mate. 'is magical core 'as always intermingled with yours. Did you ever see 'im, in school, and 'ave a fleeting glimpse of kissing 'im? Somezing you didn't understand at the time? 'is body has always known 'e would grow to one day covet you—even if 'is mind did not."

Swallowing nervously, Hermione's face went blank as she combed through her memories. She had imagined pulling the ferrety git down into a rage-filled kiss more than once. The memory clearest in her mind's eye came from third year, right after she punched him. The desire to kiss with teeth had been so strong, Hermione had breathed a sigh of anxious relief when Malfoy ran away with his cronies following.

Watching as comprehension dawned on Hermione's face, Fleur squeezed her hands before pulling her into a warm embrace. "You will be 'is everything. Monsieur Malfoy will live and breathe for your 'appiness. The sun will rise and set in your eyes. Your 'eartbeat will be the cadence of 'is life, the sweetest symphony 'e 'as ever 'eard. Do not fear this, 'Ermione. It is a gift. A blessing."

Hermione slowly nodded, pulling away with a gentle sigh.

"I hope so, Fleur. I really do."

* * *

"No, please. I don't want it. Please."

Hermione shook herself awake at the sound of Malfoy's cries. He was still dreaming, pale lavender lids closed, eyes darting rapidly underneath.

"Not my parents. Please don't hurt them."

A little fissure formed in her heart at the plaintive plea. She left her seat and carefully sat on the edge of Malfoy's bed. Licking her lips, Hermione gently pressed a hand to his cheek. "Shh, Malfoy. Your parents are safe. You're safe. Shh."

He calmed some under her touch and she breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. Suddenly his screams were piercing the night air, and Hermione's heart stopped for a moment. Briefly, she thanked Merlin and Morgana for the foresight to silence the room when the whimpering began. He'd wake the whole house, otherwise.

"It burns!" Malfoy cried. "Oh, god. Please just let it kill me. Let me die. Let me die."

And then Hermione understood exactly what he was reliving.

The night he got his mark.

"I don't want to be a monster," Draco whimpered, and two crystalline teardrops fell from his lashes. At that moment, Hermione knew just how easy it would be to fall for him.

"Oh, Draco," she murmured, while her vision blurred. Hermione blinked rapidly, refusing to cry any more. She'd always hated crying. It made her feel weak and fragile. Two things she never wanted to be. She smoothed his hair back in an affectionate gesture, one that came so naturally, Hermione didn't even think before reaching out to him. "It'll be okay. I promise. Do you hear me? You'll get through this. You're so much stronger than you think. Be brave, Draco. It's almost over."

She really hoped she wasn't lying to him.

* * *

Draco's tongue felt swollen and fuzzy inside his mouth. He tried swallowing, but his dry throat made it painful. He wanted a glass of cold water. He wanted to take a piss. But, for whatever reason, his eyes just refused to obey his command of opening.

Draco took a deep breath in, through his nose, and the world seemed to tilt, spin and reshape itself. There was a scent in the air that had his heart racing, his palms sweating, and his cock stirring against his thigh. The Veela within was purring in delight.

Or, wait, was he purring? That's new.

Gardenia, cardamom, and vanilla - it was a rich, decadent, and heady scent. And he knew who it belonged to.

"Granger?" he rasped. She had to be nearby.

Draco heard a sleepy-sounding, "Hmm?" Then a gasp. "Malfoy?" And before he could respond she was by his side, the bed dipping under her weight. "Are you awake?"

"Can't seem to open my eyes yet," he affirmed in a scratchy whisper.

"Oh!" Granger exclaimed. "You must be thirsty." He felt her body shift and then liquid being poured. "Can you lift your head?" she murmured. Draco tried with a grimace, his neck was stiff and painful, but he managed, just barely. He felt the cool, smooth glass touch his lips and opened them immediately, greedily gulping down the water. After he had his fill, Draco heard her set the glass down, likely on a bedside table.

"Thank you," he said quietly. Sadly he missed the quick smile that graced Granger's lips, but she only accepted his thanks quietly. Just as he was parting his lips to ask where he was, Draco felt her hand brushing his hair back from his forehead. The gentle touch seemed to set his very soul on fire, and Draco gasped at the incredible sensation, his eyes flying open.

Their eyes met immediately and Granger offered him a kind smile. How had he never noticed what a graceful and understated beauty she was before?

"There you are," she said softly.

"Here I am," he echoed with no small amount of awe coloring his tone.

"You gave us quite the scare," Granger said, in that same gentle tone. He couldn't help but think she'd be an excellent Healer, her bedside manner was fantastic. She pulled her hand back and panic flooded his veins. Draco caught her by the wrist, and bit his lip, "Please don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Granger murmured consolingly. "I just need to get my wand," she held out her hand and silently Accio'ed the vinewood wand from across the room, besides what looked like a travel cot. "Your parents have been climbing the walls waiting for you to wake up, I thought it best to send my Patronus and let them know you're awake. Is that okay?"

Draco wasn't sure why she was asking but nodded his assent anyway. He was far more interested in the silky, softness of her skin. Until she flicked her wand and called out, "Expecto Patronum."

Draco watched in wide-eyed wonder as the silvery wisp danced outwardly from the tip of her wand and slowly formed a corporeal Patronus, in the form of a baby Antipodean Opaleye dragon. The tiny creature looped around the room and Draco was entranced by it until he looked back at Granger with a small smile. Her sparkling amber eyes were wide with surprise as they tracked the baby dragon's movement, while her mouth hung open in shock.

Draco placed a finger under her chin, pushing gently. Granger's mouth closed with a snap, and her eyes darted to his and then away again just as fast. "Is it not what you expected, Granger?" That's the only reasoning he could come up with for her dumbfounded expression.

"It used to be an otter," she breathed, and the dragon came to rest on his lap. It was an odd sensation, seeing something perch upon you - but feeling none of its weight of warmth. Draco watched as she slowly shook her head and blew out a long, slow breath before quietly relaying the message she wanted to be delivered. The dragon dipped it's head and nuzzled her wand hand affectionately, before spreading its wings and taking off, eager to please its master.

"It's beautiful," Draco told her, sensing her unease about the change. His voice was wistful, and he cleared his throat awkwardly after speaking up. Granger met his eyes and a slow, soft smile that brightened his entire world curved her lips.

"Yeah. It is," she whispered, hearing thundering footsteps on the stairs. Their eyes remained locked on one another until his parents arrived, breathless and beaming.

* * *

They were all thrilled to see Draco's strength return quickly as if a life-altering change hadn't drastically altered the course of his life. After granting him time to take care of his needs, they'd gathered around the kitchen table and began peppering him with questions. He'd explained, at his mother's urging, that he could sense another presence in his mind, reacting and responding to external stimuli. Draco told his parents and Granger that the Veela felt like a separate entity from himself, the wizard.

When he noticed the worried expression marring Hermione's gorgeous face, Draco raised a questioning brow at her. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, something that seemed to fascinate him, and quietly asked, "Is it forcing you to behave in a certain way, against your own will?"

Draco looked pensive and thoughtful while considering her question. Slowly he shook his head, "No. No, I don't think so. Not yet at least." Hermione's shoulders relaxed and she sighed in relief at his words.

Once he'd answered all his parent's questions to their satisfaction, they left - explaining they needed to meet with the Order and uphold their part of the bargain. Harry and Ron ambled into the kitchen - Hermione suspected Bill and Fleur had travelled with the Malfoys, leaving the four teenagers alone to talk. For the first time since waking, Draco stiffened and eyed the boys cautiously.

Harry, bless him, had a small smile to offer his childhood nemesis. Ron...Ron glared. But when Draco's face darkened and he growled a warning, turning in his seat to block the redhead's view of his mate - Ron paled and held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay there, Malfoy?" Harry asked, sitting down across from Hermione who sat next to Draco. Ron nervously eyed the chair directly across from Malfoy for a long time before actually sitting down. Draco kept tracking him, each of his movements with his eyes, even though he could smell Weasel's fear. The Veela did not trust Weasley, at all.

"Yeah," Draco finally answered. "Yeah, I'm fine, Potter."

"Good, because we need to talk," Harry announced. He shared a loaded look with Hermione, who gave a perfunctory nod in response.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Harry?" Ron muttered under his breath, but if Draco's sneer in his direction was any indication, he heard every word.

"Hush, Ron. Malfoy can be trusted, can't you Malfoy?" Harry asked and cocked a brow.

Draco glanced at Hermione before nodding. She had the craziest urge to smirk at his not-so-subtle look.

"Good. Because what I'm about to tell you, no one but the people in this room knows about it. And we need to keep it that way."

Harry then began weaving a tale about Horcruxes, what they were, how they were made. Hermione would add details where necessary, but mostly let Harry lead the discussion. Once he finished explaining what happened with the Slytherin's locket, he shrugged.

"So now, all that's left is the cup, the diadem, and the snake," Harry finished.

"I think I know where one of them is," Hermione uttered, her voice a little shaky. Draco looked to her with concern, but her focus was on Harry. "When...when Bellatrix was...she thought we'd been in her vault. She kept asking me what else we had taken."

The boys were silent as they took the information in. Gringotts was a veritable fortress, damn near impregnable. They knew it could be broken into since Quirrell managed it during their first year. Of course, he did have the advantage of Voldemort tagging along on the back of his head. How were they supposed to get into the Lestrange vault? It seemed like an impossible task.

"I know you said this information needed to stay between us, alone. But -" Draco wet his lips and leaned forward. "My mother has access to Aunt Bella's vault. Has since she went to Azkaban."

Hermione stared at him incredulously, before a wide smile split her face.

"Unbelievable," she breathed and Harry knocked his fist against the table while nodding his agreement. Turning his attention back to Malfoy, Harry said, "Okay, we'll tell Narcissa what she's looking for. And that the cup will have an aura about it, dark and twisted. She should be able to find it that way, right? We wouldn't have to tell her it's a Horcrux, just that it's important."

"It won't hurt her, will it?" Draco asked, his worry for his mother apparent.

"Nah," Ron said, finally entering the conversation. "It'll probably make her feel uncomfortable - nasty little buggers, these Horcruxes. But she won't be around it long enough for any damage to be done."

Appeased, Draco sat back in his chair and sighed. He looked lost in thought for a moment before he turned his quicksilver eyes, and pinned Hermione with his stare. "The diadem? Is that like a crown or a tiara?"

Hermione's pulse sped and she swallowed, there was something very appealing about a boy with knowledge. "Yes. That's exactly what a diadem is."

With an utterly disarming grin, Draco murmured, "I know exactly where it is."


	3. Chapter 3

Everything moved quickly after that. Narcissa delivered the cup the very next day, and then they were off to Hogwarts. But not before Harry experienced one of his Voldemort induced headaches. He knew they were after the Horcruxes now and everything was riding on them getting to the diadem first.

Once in the castle, everything became a blur of light and sounds. They raced to the Room of Hidden Things, and Draco easily led them to the diadem. Only when they turned to leave, they found the path to the door blocked by Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe's anger at his one-time friend's defection was more than any of them expected, and when he unleashed Fiendfyre - well, they were lucky to make it out alive.

Crabbe, not so much.

Then there was the fighting. The death. The smoke. The ruin.

And then, just as quickly as it began, it was all over.

Voldemort was dead.

And a new world was born of the ashes of his remains.

* * *

Hermione sat on the stone steps leading to the entrance of Hogwarts. The Great Hall was filled with mourning families, the Weasleys among them, and it had been too much for her to take. The cool night air was refreshing, but she longed to leave. The stench of battle seemed to soak into her very pores and she wanted to get as far away as she could, at least for a while.

"I wondered where you'd taken off to," his voice, in that oh, so familiar drawl startled her, and Draco shook his head with an affectionate grin as he leaned against the doorjamb. Hermione was rendered momentarily speechless at the sight of him, soot-covered and exhausted but still a gorgeous specimen of a man. It was entirely unfair.

Hermione watched as he pushed away from the wall and took a seat next to her. They sat in silence for a while, much closer than either would have allowed before. When Draco turned to face her, Hermione blushed, having been caught watching him. He looked nervous and ran a hand through his hair a few times before the witch reached out and caught his hand, stilling it. "What's wrong?" She asked softly, silently thrilling when he flipped their hands and twined their fingers together.

"Nothing," Draco murmured. "Not a damn thing. I mean, I'm sad for those who lost loved ones. My heart goes out to them. But for me? The moment that monster fell, I was granted a second chance at life. I'm not sure I deserve it, but I'll be grateful for it for the rest of my days."

"Then why do you look so nervous?" Hermione asked, tilting her head in confusion. She heard him gulp, and raised both brows. What could he have to tell her that could be so bad?

"I wanted to ask you something," Draco mumbled, and Hermione was delighted when she saw his cheeks darken with a blush. Waving her hand impatiently, she urged him on. "I was wondering if you might - that is, if you would like to spend the summer with me and my family."

Hermione blinked. She hadn't expected that at all. Draco was avoiding her eyes, likely expecting a rejection. Thinking about it, Hermione realized she technically had no place to go. Her parents were somewhere in Australia, her childhood home stood empty and cold. She could always stay at the Burrow, but with the loss they just incurred, Hermione really didn't feel like intruding.

Her silence must have stretched on too long because suddenly Draco was babbling, something the witch had never seen him do. "I ask because being away from you for that long would be torture. And because it's a tradition I would like to honor with you. But I'll understand if you don't want to. It won't be easy, but I'll manage…"

As he took a breath, Hermione spoke up before he could continue, "I really don't have anywhere else to go."

He looked to her in confusion, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed, "What do you mean? Wouldn't you just return home?"

Hermione offered him a broken smile, "I can't. It's not my home anymore."

"Explain," it was a terse command, but Draco looked increasingly worried with each passing second. His thumb started rubbing soothing circles against the back of her hand, turning Hermione's smile a little more genuine. If only for a moment.

"Before I left on the Horcrux hunt, I obliviated my parents. They're somewhere in Australia now. It was too dangerous for them here," she dropped her eyes to their entwined hands when she began and refused to look up.

"Your protections undoubtedly saved their lives, Hermione," Draco said sincerely, ducking his head low to catch her eye.

With a sniffle and a sad, wet chuckle Hermione raised her head and squeezed his hand, "I never thought I'd see the day where Draco Malfoy offered me comfort." She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder, and she didn't see the way he smiled at the move. "But thank you. I think I needed to hear that."

"You're welcome," Draco breathed into her riotous curls. "And you'll stay the Summer at the Manor. We'll also send some private investigators to Australia, and with any luck, we might know where they are in a couple months."

Hermione barely squeaked out a small 'Okay' before her arms were around his neck, and she was crying into his chest. The muffled 'thank yous' stymied Draco's concern, and he began to rock them back and forth while resting his cheek atop her curls. "And you do deserve it," Hermione whispered.

"Deserve what, love?" He closed his eyes, luxuriating in her closeness. Draco never really considered holding Hermione Granger in his arms, but now that he was, he decided his arms would hold her as often as she would allow.

"A second chance."

* * *

Returning to the Manor wasn't exactly easy. Hermione felt panic bubble up in her chest the moment her eyes landed on the imposing, regal structure. But Draco's hand wrapped around her balled fist, gently massaging out the stress before tangling their fingers together. She blinked up at him, and he offered a sad half-smile then squeezed her hand reassuringly. Her lips quirked up on one side, then rested her head against his shoulders.

Hermione glanced to their left and found Draco's parents standing together, nearly their mirror image. Exhaustion lined their faces and the slump of their shoulders. No doubt each member of the Malfoy family was eager for the comfort of home. It would be a while, as they were waiting for Kingsley Shacklebolt and Bill Weasley to finish sweeping the house. Both had offered their services freely, their gratitude towards the Malfoys for all they had done to assist the Order outweighing years of negativity.

Hermione had been overwhelmed with gratitude when, after agreeing to Draco's proposal to spend the summer with him and his family, they had returned to the Great Hall to tell the Weasley family where she would be staying. Hermione had been certain she would have to battle not only her friends but her surrogate parents over her decision. Instead, Molly Weasley had pulled her into the fiercest hug and whispered into her ear, "You always have a home with us. But that boy over there? I've never seen a man so intent on protecting someone before. I had my reservations, love. But not anymore."

It was maddeningly reassuring to hear those words from the Weasley matriarch. And she was right, Draco had stayed by Hermione's side from the moment his eyes opened from his Awakening. It had bothered her initially when Draco would pull her behind him when hostile Death Eaters or Voldemort sympathizers blocked their path. But quickly came to the conclusion that Draco was remarkably skilled in duelling.

Hermione could hold her own, mind you, but Draco's volleys of spells were cast in such rapid succession, the witch could only watch in stunned wonder while she covered his back. They worked together well, much to everyone's surprise - and Hermione found that the idea of being the soulmate of this version of Draco Malfoy no longer felt like a burden or a curse. Getting to know this kinder, gentler Malfoy would be right at the top of her list of priorities, just behind finding and restoring her parents' memories.

An hour had passed before the bedraggled pair joined the Malfoys and Hermione on the sprawling front lawn. Hermione had wrapped her arms around Bill, once he finished explaining all the nasty curses that had been left behind by Voldemort, and the two shared their grief in whispered words and silent tears. With a promise to see each other very soon, the pair left - eager to return their loved ones.

Hermione couldn't help but feel, as she stepped over the threshold into the manor, that this moment in time would forever change the course of her life.

And, after glimpsing the adoring grin on Draco's face when she peeked at him through the corner of her eyes - she was starting to believe it just might be everything she had ever dreamed of.

Adjusting to living at Malfoy Manor had been hard at first, having spent so long calling a tent, hidden away in a forest, her home. The awkwardness melted away quickly, however, by the sheer force of will of the Malfoy family as a whole. Anytime Hermione found herself withdrawing, turning inward and closing herself off - overwhelmed and confused about everything that occurred - a magnificent blonde would appear and gently coax her back into the land of the living.

She learned that Narcissa while being an ethereal beauty and celebrated society wife, often discounted as nothing more, actually had an intellect that rivalled her own, was a dab hand at potions and could seemingly make anything grow and flourish in her gardens and solarium. Lucius was a quiet man, always observing those around him. And when he spoke, it was always something of great importance or meaning. She enjoyed spending many long hours tucked away in the library, debating everything from politics to the best kind of quill.

Never in her wildest of dreams would Hermione have ever thought she'd begin to respect Lucius Malfoy's opinions; yet she did. And it seemed as though Lucius was beginning to do the same. One evening, as he passed her to retire for the night, he'd given her curls an affectionate ruffle, and Hermione had sat in stunned silence for an hour after he'd gone. Slowly, Hermione fell into a routine. What shocked her was how much she genuinely enjoyed spending time with each member of the family.

She had promised herself she would take her time; guard her heart - on the off chance this all came crashing down around her.

But her heart had other plans, and slowly but surely, each Malfoy had carved out their own permanent place within hers.

* * *

"And what will our young lovebirds be doing today?" Narciss hid her teasing grin in her teacup, as the remains of their breakfast disappeared. Hermione's cheeks warmed, an alluring hue of pink adorned the apples of her cheeks.

Draco shot his mother a charming grin as he wrapped one of Hermione's curls around his finger, unwound it, and wound it around again. He had a strange attachment to the wild and glossy curls that fell down his witch's back in waves of chocolate, mahogany and gold. "I thought we might take a walk through the rose gardens and then go see the Abraxans."

Hermione snapped her head in his direction and by the sparkle in her bright eyes and wide smile, Draco knew he'd planned well.

"Oh, ever since fourth year I've been fascinated with Abraxans!" The joy apparent in her voice wrapped around Draco like a comforting blanket and warmed him from within.

"I thought we might take a ride through the forest near the stables if you feel comfortable with that?" He murmured, staring at the beauty by his side with an awestruck expression adorning his usually stoic, aristocratic features. The seemingly ever-present clouds had shifted and the bright, morning sun filtered through the wall of windows behind them - casting its golden beams on Hermione.

Never before had Draco been so enraptured by someone, but at that moment with the sunlight bouncing off her curls, Hermione Granger looked like the angels he'd seen in books on Muggle religion. His hand, the one that had been tenderly playing with a curl moved to trace the line of her jaw; his touch featherlight, as if she were made of glass.

Hermione blinked slowly, her lips parted as she gazed back at him with an equally dazed expression. He looked glorious with the sunlight glinting off his normally pale, silvery-blonde hair - making it appear as if it were spun gold. But what held her, and had her heart thundering in her chest like a herd stampeding hippogriffs, was the softness in his pale grey eyes. They spoke of adoration, devotion and an emotion Hermione refused to acknowledge just yet.

Narcissa, having been completely forgotten, watched the pair with a tender smile. She had been thrilled when Hermione agreed to spend the summer with them. Though she, her husband and their son had cast off the blood prejudices that once seemed so important, there were still traditions the Pureblood families held close to their hearts. One of those traditions being that the young man's family would extend an offer to his intended to spend a summer together at the beginning of their courtship.

It allowed the parents to witness the couples compatibility, as well as the chance to bond with the possible new member of their family. But for Narcissa, this moment she was witnessing made it all the more precious. One day, long in the future, she would sit her grandchildren down and tell them about the moment their parents fell in love.

The older witch soundlessly rose from her chair and back out of the room, blinking back tears of joy as she watched through the closing doors as her son leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his witch's cheek, and the shy dip of Hermione's head to hide a smile that rivaled the sun.

* * *

Strolling hand in hand with Draco, Hermione looked around herself in awe. Narcissa and Draco both had spoken at length of the older witch's love of gardening, but Hermione's imagingings were paltry and paled in comparison to the real thing. Row after row of roses, some twisting and twining to reveal breathtaking designs, like something out of a fairytale book. She felt a bit like Alice, lost in Wonderland. Would there be someone painting the white roses red, as well?

"I can remember helping my mother plant and tend to so many of these bushes as a young boy," Draco was saying, smiling down at her in a way that never failed to steal the breath from her lungs. "She'd talk to each plant as she covered their roots with nutrient-rich soil, and then offer them a refreshing drink of water."

Hermione couldn't help but return his grin, it seemed very much like something Narcissa would do. Then, she watched as his smile slowly faltered and he stared off into the distance. Sensing the impending change of mood, she gently squeezed the hand holding onto hers - offering her support, giving him whatever comfort she could.

With a deep breath, Draco continued, "When I was ten, just days shy of my eleventh birthday and the arrival of my Hogwarts letter - I had followed her out here, but my father wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of his only son and heir spending so much time 'folicking in flowers' with his mother. He'd rather I take an interest in a more manly endeavor."

They paused at a glorious bush covered in robust, pink blooms. Draco traced a silken petal with his fingertip, "We were planting this lovely specimen right here, and when she began to croon at the plant I snapped at her. Without even realizing it, I was parroting everything my father had berated me with the day before. I told her how ridiculous it was to whisper to plants, that if anyone but I saw her they'd think she was totally nutters."

Hermione watched as he swallowed roughly, remorse twisting his features into a tortured mask. Unwilling to allow him to deal with this memory all on his own, she pressed a warm hand against his cheek and smiled as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Covering her hand with his own and without opening his eyes, Draco continued in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "My mother sat back and stared at me as tears filled her eyes, and I knew I'd made a terrible mistake but couldn't back down. Another one of my father's rules: Malfoys don't back down once they've come to a decision on something.

"She looked so hurt, though. And then she reached out and grabbed my face, pulled me close and asked: What is so crazy about offering something you love affection, companionship and nourishment? She told me she spoke to the plants because it helped them to grow and flourish, as if her attention gave them strength. Then, after smoothing my hair back and giving me a look so full of love and gentle consternation that it very nearly broke my heart, she told me I'd do well to remember just how powerful my words could be. That when I felt like raising my voice in anger, or spitting out hateful and hurtful words I should picture this." He finally opened his eyes, and Hermione was startled to see the redness lining his lids, and the suspicious shine of tears twinkling in the sun.

Draco turned his attention back to the blooms in question, and cleared his throat before speaking again. "I should picture this in my mind. And with each toxic word watch it shrivel, wither and eventually die. 'Beautiful, innocent things need a kinder, gentler touch,' she said. 'And if you want beauty in your life, Draco - you'd do well to remember that,'" he quoted.

Hermione swallowed around the lump in her throat, understanding dawning. Draco let go of her hand, and moved away from her comforting touch, but not before placing a lingering kiss to the inside of her wrist in thanks. She stood there, watching as he pulled his wand from his pocket and inspected several pink blossoms before finding one he deemed acceptable. A careful severing spell later, Draco returned to her side and slid the beautiful bud behind her ear.

"I know I spent years ignoring my mother's words," Draco intoned seriously. "I spent years devoted to tearing you down. And recently, watching you try so hard with my parents, spending time with you and seeing how much you care, genuinely care for each of us - I couldn't help but remember every horrible word I spat in you direction. All the cruel names and painful taunts." She couldn't look away as he paused, working his jaw. "Thanks to my Veela, I can remember each instance in absolute clarity. I didn't believe my mother before, Hermione -" her breath caught in her throat, a small gasp escaping her like it did each time Draco used her given name, "- but thanks to my Awakening, and it's enlightenment, I can close my eyes and watch as you withered with our every interaction."

Hermione felt her chin tremble, and valiantly fought back the tears his words brought to her eyes.

"I promise you, Hermione," the boy who spent years tormenting her, framed her face with his hands, tenderly brushing away her tears as they fell, "I will only speak to you with respect and care from this moment on. I never want to be the reason why your beautiful eyes fill with pain, or watch as your face crumples from thoughtless words. I'll never be able to erase those memories, for either of us - but I swear to you, right here and now - I'll do everything in my power to make sure they don't haunt us forever. Do you trust me to do that?"

There was no denying his sincerity, Draco's pale grey eyes looked like swirling pools of silver and the truth of his words shone from deep within. Hermione nodded her assent with a shaky, emotional smile.

"Yes, Draco. I trust you." If she had thought he was beautiful before, she didn't have words for the resplendent smile that lit up his entire face at her words. His eyes turned smouldering, crinkling slightly at the very edges from his evident happiness. Next thing she knew, Hermione was wrapped in his tight embrace and could feel each and every shuddering breath he drew in. Her arms wrapped around his middle and she smoothed soothing circles against the small of his back.

Closing her eyes and shaking her head in wonderment, she couldn't help but hold him a little closer, a little tighter as his raspy voice chanted in her ear, "Thank you. Oh gods, thank you."

* * *

The couple had continued their leisurely stroll through the fragrant roses, sharing stories from their childhood and the happy memories they had from Hogwarts. They found that they were similar in many aspects they'd never considered before. By the time the reached the stables, the pair felt closer to one another in a way they'd never experienced with another. It was as comforting as it was exciting and resulted in coy flirtations and blushing cheeks.

Draco couldn't help but swell up with pride at the look on Hermione's face when they entered the stables and her eyes landed on the magical horses housed there. There was something about her expression of radiant excitement that made his heart skip several beats. His Veela purred within his mind, but Draco had learned how to control that particular reaction from escaping his own lips. Still, he had to physically plant his feet to keep from crushing his witch against his chest and kissing her senseless.

The Veela didn't quite approve of his slow pace with Hermione, but Draco didn't care. His Granger deserved to be courted; he needed to win her affections honorably. That meant going on excursions similar to the one they were on this very moment, it meant tokens of affection, and it was so very important to Draco that he did it all the right way. He was asking her for forever - and he wanted to earn it.

Placing his large, warm hand against the small of her back - Draco lead the way over to his steed. He was a majestic beast, onyx in color with eyes the color of the whiskey he drank by the barrel. "This is Eros," Draco leaned in close and murmured against the shell of her ear, inhaling her intoxicating scent by the lungful. He thrilled at the shiver he felt run down her spine.

He wasn't the only one affected. Praise Morgana.

"It certainly suits you, Eros," Hermione cooed at the large steed while holding out her hand, waiting for the animal to decide whether she was worth his interest. Slowly, the horse nudged her hand and Eros ruffled his wings in pleasure when the witch began stroking his corded and muscular neck almost reverently.

Draco couldn't contain his smirk. Eros loathed everyone but him, and yet there he was, basking in Hermione's attention like a lovestruck fool. But, he rationalized, I would do the same. It was just one more thing on an ever-growing list that proved this match was written in the stars.

He chuckled as he moved to the racks, grabbing the dragonhide saddle he'd received for his fifteenth birthday and Eros blinked at him with patience and understanding, following as Draco opened his stall and waiting for his owner to tighten the straps and place the bit. All the while, the wizard spoke to the winged horse like an old, dear friend he'd missed catching up with. Catching Hermione's soft smile as she watched them, the tips of Draco's ears turned pink.

He held out his hand to her and smiled, "I thought, since it's your first time riding an Abraxan, we might ride together? There's something I would like to show you."

With no trace of hesitation, Hermione strolled forward, slipping his hand into his without question. Again, his heart reacted - skipping a beat before doubling its pace. "I'd love that," she breathed in response and Draco didn't even try to fight the Veela this time, as he leaned forward and pressed an adoring kiss to her forehead. The blush that bloomed under the skin of her cheeks had the Veela within crowing with delight, and Draco was feeling pretty proud of it, as well.

"Up you go then." With a wink, he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her effortlessly from the hay covered flooring, into the saddle on Eros' back. Before she could blink, Draco had swung a leg over and settled in behind her. Draco imagined his Veela giving him a thumbs up as he encircled Hermione's small frame, though no longer underfed - his mother had immediately seen to that, and took the reins.

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, Draco coaxed the animal into a slow walk out of the stables - smiling down at his witch as she continued to stroke Eros' silken, shiny coat. With another command, Eros began trotting, carrying his riders down a path he'd traversed many, many times before. After a few more minutes of the sedate pace, Eros whinnied his displeasure at Draco.

He wanted to run.

Putting Hermione first, as he would always strive to do, Draco dropped his lips next to her ear and whispered, "Eros is used to riding with me and would like to let loose and gallop, but I don't wish to make you uncomfortable."

The drawback to this intimate position, Draco realized, was that he couldn't see her reactions. And truly, the smile that graced her lips was dazzling. It was such a shame he couldn't see it. He felt her hands circle his wrists and leaned around as much as he dared to see what she was trying to do, and immediately accepting when he came to the conclusion that she wished to hold the reins beneath his own, much larger hands.

Turning her head slightly to the left and tilting her chin up to meet his gaze, she smiled that disarming smile that knocked him senseless every time and asked in a honeyed voice that caused a flip in his stomach, "Teach me?"

Draco smirked at her, not the animosity fueled cruel one that haunted her for years, one that spoke to his overwhelming delight that she wanted him to lead her in something. The amount of faith and trust in that one request, was enough to unleash a swarm of butterflies in his stomach and made his heart feel as though it were full to bursting. He moved their hands together, flicking the reins with a call of, "Yah! Let's run, Eros!"

And off they shot. Hermione's delighted laughter - dainty giggles peppered with loud screeching laughter when Eros would make a jump or make a sharp, unexpected turn (such a show-off, Draco thought with a roll of his eyes) seemed to linger around Draco and settled into his skin, leaving pleasant tingles running through his entire being. He vowed then and there that he would always strive to make this witch laugh at least ten times a day. It was the uplifting melody, a crescendo leading the sonata of his life away from the low, dark notes he was used to and into the tinkling keys that evoked thoughts of spinning the witch in his arms around a dance floor, while she's dressed all in white with pretty flowers in her hair.

If his arms tightened around her at the thought, she didn't seem to mind. Instead, Hermione settled back against him more fully, her head coming to rest in the space between his neck and shoulder. Lush greenery blurred as they rode on, resembling a verdant wall on either side. Draco could feel each beat of her heart as she rested against him, and placed a kiss on her crown of curls when the answering beat in his chest matched hers.

The sun was beginning its nightly descent and Draco's nerves returned full-force. It was a well-known fact that while Hermione knew how to fly, she preferred to keep her feet planted firmly and safely on the ground. He sincerely hoped she wouldn't object, as he wanted to share the one thing that never failed to bring him joy with her. Knowing the clearing they would need to use was rapidly approaching, Draco used both their hands to pull back on the reins a bit. Eros wasn't thrilled with the interruption, he very much loved to run, fast and wild, with Draco on his back - but the creature seemed to understand the young woman his master held protectively in his arms was special and so he slowed, knickering his acquiescence.

"Hermione, we're nearing the clearing and I want to share something with you that's special to me. But we'll need to take flight. I promise you, love, you will be completely safe. Nothing short of an Avada would make me let go of you, you understand?" Again speaking directly into her ear, Draco fought back his smirk at her reaction to him, afraid the sight of it might lead her to say no.

He waited with baited breath for what seemed like an age, but was really only a few seconds, before Hermione took an empowering breath, bolstered by Draco's strong arms around her, turned to catch his eye and smiled, "Let's go then." Ever the brave Gryffindor, Draco thought with no small amount of affection. A flick of their wrists later, Eros took off once more - knowing without needing Draco's instruction precisely what to do.

The vegetation thinned, the amber rays of the late evening sun coating everything in a golden hue. The horse galloped into the clearing and his wings unfurled, ripping an awed gasp from Hermione before the majestic steed bent its knees and swept his wings down before pushing off, which elicited a squeal from the witch in Draco's arms and he couldn't withhold his laugh.

The sound of Eros' wings, a gentle yet powerful swoosh set a soothing cadence in their ears as they continued to soar away from the Manor's grounds and towards the sparse clouds in the sky.

When Eros levelled them out, Draco leaned over Hermione's shoulder wanting to see her reaction - and he wasn't disappointed. Her glorious burnt sienna eyes were wide and round, sweeping left and right taking in the exquisite view. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon far off in the west, painting the sky with wide strokes of orange, pink, and lavender - the gods' gift to mortals, a brand new masterpiece every evening. They were high above the forest now, an endless sea of rich green, absorbing the last golden rays of the day.

The Manor could be seen, far off in the distance, the windows winking at the couple as the dying light glanced off their reflective surfaces. "I didn't realize how far we'd traveled," Hermione murmured, her voice cloaked in wonder. Draco let go of the reins and wrapped both his arms around Hermione's middle, shushing her when she began to oppose. "As long as you keep the reins in your grip, Eros knows what to do. I wouldn't put you in any kind of danger, Hermione."

"I know," the witch in question sweetly responded. Draco dropped his forehead to her shoulder and held her as tight as he dared, needing a moment to quell the emotions currently overwhelming his senses. She had no idea how much that meant to him, her easy acceptance of his word and her belief in him, that he would do anything and everything in his power to keep her from harm. It had him choking back tears - of both relief and supplication, simultaneously shifting his hips away from her firm bum lest she feel his not-so-proper reaction to her words.

Taking another deep breath, full of her scent - something he was beginning to believe had been handpicked by the Fates, and only for him because with each lungful his entire being relaxed in a way he hadn't felt in years. Once sufficiently calmed, Draco propped his chin on Hermione's shoulder and let loose a contented sigh. Staring off into the horizon, he judged they had roughly ten minutes left of daylight.

"When things were at their darkest," he began, pressing his cheek against hers with another sigh. "I'd come up here with Eros and watch the sunset. It felt reassuring in a way, that maybe - just maybe, if something this beautiful still existed, even with all the darkness crushing us beneath its never-ending presence - maybe there was still hope for tomorrow."

Holding the reins loosely against her lap, Hermione turned her head to search his face. Warm compassion flickered in her eyes when she, once again, cupped his cheek - her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. She didn't say a word, but then again, she didn't need too. Draco felt everything she would have said in that one simple touch. Lost as he was in her tender gaze, the feel of her pillow-soft lips pressing against his own ripped a gasp from his lungs.

Their eyes fluttered shut, just as the fiery orb in the west dipped below the horizon, and Draco praised each and every deity he knew as their lips slid against one another in an intimate dance as old as time itself. It was chaste, as most first kisses should be - but that did not mean that Draco didn't pour every ounce of emotion he'd been feeling over the course of their time together bleed into the kiss, with the fervent hope that Hermione would feel and understand. It was meant to say thank you, you mean everything to me, please don't leave me, I think I'm falling in love with you. Perhaps that was too much to pin on one kiss - but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

When their kiss gentled, the need to breathe screaming at them both, they pulled back slowly and opened their eyes. The mutual longing burning in their eyes distracted them momentarily from the inky indigo sky, dotted with brilliantly shining stars.

"You don't do anything small, do you?" Hermione asked with an amazed grin.

And with a kiss to the tip of her nose, Draco handed his heart over to Hermione with his husky murmur of, "When it comes to you, nothing else would do. I adore you, Hermione."

Hermione felt she was walking on clouds the entire trip back to the Manor. Draco seemed to be just as unwilling to let go of her as she was to let go of him. Fingers and hands entwined, her Veela seemed to require just a bit more - so he wrapped the arm of the hand holding hers around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. She had no complaints, not only did his affection have her heart thrumming in her chest like the wings of a hummingbird, but the night air had a bit of a chill in it. Hermione snuggled herself a little closer, much to Draco's delight, and dreaded the moment they arrived at her bedroom door.

Rationally, she knew he was only across the hall from her - but when have burgeoning romantic feelings ever been rational? Every fibre of her being longed to spend the entire night talking about anything and everything, and maybe more kissing. Definitely more kissing. It was then her mind decided to dump a metaphorical bucket of ice water directly into her veins when she remembered what tomorrow's responsibilities consisted of, and why staying up all night getting to know who the man beside her was today, instead of looking at him and seeing the boy Draco used to be, wasn't an option.

The morose slump of her body must have alerted Draco to her plight, because she felt his arm tighten around her before he made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. The silence between them was comfortable, and Hermione accepted his silent offer of strength because the idea of saying a final goodbye to her friend and surrogate big brother sucked every ounce of strength and energy out of her body. Draco led her upstairs once inside the Manor, scooping her up in his arms halfway through the second flight when her body sagged and he nearly lost his grip on her.

Quite unlike herself, Hermione didn't object in any way and instead buried her face against the side of his neck. Draco was certain he felt his heart crack in two when he felt wet warmth against his skin. Hermione was grateful when he picked up the pace, getting them to her bedroom faster. She didn't think she was about to break down entirely, her tears were already slowing - it was usually a rare thing for Hermione to allow herself to lose control and fully give in to her emotions.

When he reached her door, Draco shifted her weight for only a moment to twist the knob before gently kicking the door open. He walked her over to the bed and laid her down gently against the fluffy down duvet and equally fluffy feather pillows. Hermione blinked up at him, her lips pulled down in a sad frown. He felt every ounce of her heartache as Draco stared into her cinnamon colored eyes.

Brushing an errant curl behind Hermione's ear, Draco longed to have the words to offer her comfort - but he was coming up empty-handed. Instead, he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I know you were close to both of the Weasley twins and I can only imagine how much pain you're in right now. I've always like the twins, they were funny. Even though one of them helped stomp me into the Quidditch pitch a few years ago."

A hollow version of her delightful laugh reached his ears, before she sniffled, and said through a whimper "That was Fred."

"I'll have to give credit where it's due tomorrow then. He had a mean right hook," Draco attempted a cajoling smile that turned genuine and so tender, Hermione's heart lurched at the sight of it when her lips tipped upward in a small, but genuine smile at his words.

"You're coming with me tomorrow?" Hermione asked in a very small voice that didn't suit her in any way, whatsoever.

"A herd of wild hippogriffs couldn't keep me away," Draco assured her, pressing a soft kiss to her hairline. "I'm going to leave so you can change and get ready for bed, and do the same. Don't mourn yourself sick tonight, Hermione, please. If I know anything about the twins, neither one of them would want you torturing yourself because of them. Get in your most comfortable sleepwear, crawl back in bed and remember every good time you spent with Fred. Let that lead you off into the ether of sleep, okay?"

Hermione was certain her heart tripled in size at his words. Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, brought on by this sweet man, who only wanted to care for her, and had done everything in his power to keep her occupied today, she realized after a moment's contemplation. Draco Malfoy, it seemed, would never stop surprising her. She nodded, willing to agree with anything for him at that moment.

"Promise?" Draco reiterated with a hard stare, but Hermione heard the plaintive plea in his voice as he asked.

"I promise," Hermione echoed, and watched as he turned to leave before pausing, turning back to face her and leaning down to press and all too brief, but achingly sweet kiss on her lips.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Draco," she sighed. Reaching up, Hermione pressed her fingertips to her lips and couldn't fight the small grin that curved her lips.

* * *

Hermione wanted to ignore the buzzing from her wand on the bedside table. If she didn't open her eyes, it wasn't morning. And if it wasn't morning, then she didn't have to rise and shower, pour Sleekeazy's potion on her curls and dress in the pretty black dress robes Narcissa had taken her to buy a few days prior. If it wasn't morning she wouldn't have to walk down the stairs with Draco by her side, they wouldn't have to travel through the Floo to the Burrow. They wouldn't have to gather on a hill just outside the fragrant orchard at the back of the Weasley's property.

If it wasn't morning yet, then she didn't have to say goodbye.

With a deep groan, one she felt in her bones, Hermione rolled over and blindly grabbed her wand - effectively ending the waking charm. With a bone-weary sigh, she cracked her eyes open reluctantly and they widened as her eyes lit upon a beautiful bouquet of roses sitting right next to where her wand had been. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, Hermione blinked and shook her head before glancing at the bedside table once more.

A soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she took in the gorgeous flowers, Draco must have woken with the sun to gather the gorgeous blooms for her. A bouquet of six roses: two pink blooms, like the one he put behind her ear yesterday; she pressed between the pages of her favorite book. Two peach roses. And two cream. Then, once again proving Draco goes above and beyond, baby's breath and forget-me-nots erased any negative space in the bouquet.

Now Hermione might not have had an overwhelming interest in herbology, but she used to help her grandmother garden when she was a child. And they would spend hours discussing the meanings of flowers. She had no doubt, as she gently brushed her fingertips over a couple of the blooms, that Draco chose each and every flower with a particular intent.

Climbing out of her comfortable bed, Hermione leant over the fragrant bouquet and inhaled their sweet scent. With her eyes closed she recalled: Pink roses for admiration. Peach roses signified deep appreciation or gratitude. Cream roses for charm and thoughtfulness. Baby's breath signified undying love. And finally, Forget-Me-Not flowers meant true and undying love, fidelity and loyalty in a relationship, despite separation or other challenges. And a bouquet of six roses meant "I want to be yours."

Opening her eyes, Hermione looked at Draco's beautiful offering once more and couldn't blink back the tear before it slid down her cheek. Never in all her life had anyone given her such a thoughtful and meaningful gift. It seemed her very own Veela had a secret romantic side - the thought made her grin as she made her way to the shower, feeling much stronger and while no-one was ever ready to say goodbye to someone they loved, knowing she'd have Draco by her side, along with Harry and all the Weasleys - it wasn't as daunting as it had seemed before.

Hermione showered and gently squeezed the water from her hair with the fluffy towels left on the sink for her. Once it was no longer dripping, she worked a little hair potion through the thick waves of her hair. Clipping two delicate silver barrettes into her hair, just over her ears - a birthday gift from Fred, Hermione sighed - long and slow. Next, she added a slick of waterproof mascara, and a quick brush of pale-pink lip gloss across her lips. Pleased with her hair and makeup, the witch moved to her armoire and pulled out the dress robes. Then she slipped her feet into the black kitten heels she picked for this day.

Starting to feel her heart sink, Hermione glanced back at her roses and allowed their sweet message to resonate within her heart. Warmth and comfort seeped through her and she took a grateful breath before picking up her beaded bag and rummaging through it until she found her strand of pearls, and matching earrings. As Hermione was giving herself a final once-over in the mirror, she heard a timid knock at her door.

"Hermione?" Draco's voice was muffled through the heavy wooden door, but she heard him clearly enough. One more steadying breath and Hermione grabbed her purse before pulling the door open.

Draco's eyes widened at the sight of her. She watched with fascination as his Adam's apple bobbed roughly under his pale skin. "I'm not sure what the etiquette is for a situation like this. Do I tell you how stunning you look, when the reason you're dressed as such is so heartbreaking?"

Hermione pushed up on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek, "Thank you. Both for the compliment and the lovely roses. They made the day easier to face."

His answering smile was soft and he brushed his thumb lightly over her bottom lip before taking a step back and holding out his arm. It was her turn to swallow thickly as she took his arm and let him lead her down the winding staircases. What Hermione hadn't expected was for Lucius and Narcissa to be waiting at the foot of the stairs, both wearing mourning robes. A quick glance back at Draco, and sure enough - he was wearing his own set of formal mourning robes. She felt her face crumple, the kindness behind the gesture hitting her much harder than Hermione would have expected.

Draco had her wrapped in a tight embrace before she could blink, and she could feel Narcissa behind her, running a motherly hand over her curls - careful not to disturb them, but wanting to offer comfort anyway. When she turned and rested her cheek against Draco's sturdy chest, she came face to face with a very concerned and sympathetic looking Lucius Malfoy. He reached out, like he wanted to ruffle her curls, but seeing just how pretty the young witch looked - he settled for gently patting her cheek.

"Chin up, Miss Granger. What breaks us, only makes us stronger in the end," Lucius murmured in a tone so affectionate it made her heart twist in her chest, hit by a longing for her father that was so incredibly strong it made her gasp for air. And then it hit her, Lucius was treating her like a daughter of his own. Hermione pulled away from Draco with a frail, but genuine, smile and took two steps forward before pushing up and pressing a kiss to Lucius' cheek, as well.

"Thank you," She told him with every ounce of her sincerity. He only nodded with a soft smile, but both now had a much better understanding of one another.

Draco stepped up beside her and took her hand in his own, while Narcissa reclaimed her place by Lucius' side. Hermione then noticed eleven of the most pristine, snow white, long-stemmed roses, tied with a black silk ribbon. She glanced up into Narcissa's compassionate pale blue eyes, and the older witch offered a motherly smile while she held the roses out for Hermione to take.

Eleven roses assure the receiver that they are well and truly loved.

Hermione knew instinctively, that though Narcissa gave her a simple bouquet of her most exquisite roses so she would have a token to leave for Fred - one that meant exactly what she would want to say to him if he were still among the living - the older witch was also making her own declaration this morning, and Hermione felt so full of gratitude and love that she believed she might burst into a million pieces.

"Shall we?" Lucius asked the group at large and held her arm out to his wife.

Hermione, still keeping her hand wrapped around Draco's, took hold of his arm as well, leaning against him in her hour of need - knowing he wouldn't let her fall. The group moved to the travelling room and Hermione and Draco stepped into the green flames together, turning to face each other while Draco pulled her close and wrapped both his arms around her tightly.

As they spun through time and space, Hermione held Draco all the closer. She knew she was falling for this version of Draco. She could barely remember the Malfoy of yesteryear, not when the man he'd become was someone kinder and gentler than she'd ever imagined. When the spinning stopped, Draco steadied her on her feet as he led her out of the grate. His parents arrived moments later.

The Burrow was quiet for the first time in all the years Hermione had visited, and another piece of her heart shattered inside her chest. Hermione lead the glum procession towards the kitchen, where she knew she'd find the family sitting around the table. The sight of eight bowed, redheads, chipped off another piece. Giving Draco's hand a squeeze, Hermione pulled away and made her way around the table. Percy was closest, leaning against the sink. They shared a brief hug and murmured words of mutual consideration. Taking a step forward to reach them, Molly and Arthur crushed her between them, clinging like it was the only thing keeping them from falling apart. With whispered words of comfort and kisses on both their cheeks, she moved on. Hermione hugged Bill from behind, who smiled a heartbreaking smile over his shoulder at her. Next was a surprisingly tight embrace from Fleur, who stood to hug Hermione properly. Fleur kissed both her cheeks and thanked her for coming because they all needed her here. Moving on down the line, a brief, but fierce hug came from Charlie. Harry was next, rocking them both back and forth for several long minutes. He'd missed her something fierce, but glancing over Hermione's shoulder at the Malfoy's who stood just inside the kitchen, quietly respectful of the mourning family, his eyes locked on Malf- Draco, he'd have to start calling him Draco, only to find his grey eyes on Hermione, shining with gentle tenderness that left Harry reeling. He relinquished his hold on the sister of his heart and Hermione barely had the chance to breathe before Ginny launched herself into her arms and sobbed quietly against her shoulder.

Hermione hummed a gentle tune in Ginny's ear, wishing there were more she could do to offer one of her very best friends comfort. It took some time, but eventually, Ginny's quiet sobs tapered off into small sniffles and she pulled away with a watery smile. One that said everything she couldn't. And Hermione mirrored the smile. Her eyes fell on George next and with that Hermione's strength failed her. She slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the broken noise escaping her, and then George was standing in front of her, pulling her into a fierce hug that only made her cry that much harder. She should be offering him comfort, not the other way around. But one look at his lifeless, desolate face had taken what was left of her heart and crushed it into a fine powder.

Hermione wasn't sure how long she and George held onto one another, pouring out their mutual grief into the space between them, but when he pulled back, he still looked utterly lost, but he tweaked her nose playfully - making her lips quirk up in a grin without her permission. And his lips even twitched in response at the sight of it. When Hermione moved next to his chair, Ron looked up at her and she was nearly knocked back several feet by the amount of pain swirling in his bright blue eyes. Ron looked away for a moment, but Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of him and then he turned his attention back to her as he stood and whimpered, "Mione."

Nothing further need be said, and Hermione had him pulled into a bone-crushing hug the very next instant. Whispering words of comfort and love to him, Hermione locked eyes with Draco over his shoulder. His jaw was clenched and for the briefest moment she thought it was his jealousy and she considered whether she would castrate him now or after when a tear slipped from his left eye and began its quick descent. Two fingers quickly and discreetly wiped the evidence away, but he knew she had seen it - and for her, that one tear of genuine compassion and shared grief made something shift inside her very being. Hermione wasn't precisely sure what happened, but when Draco staggered back a step - his breathing haggard from overwhelming emotion and he stared at her with such open and naked love lightening the grey in his eyes to a sparkling silver, she knew it had been a monumental shift.

When Ron pulled back and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, he met her eyes and shrugged. His voice was rough and thick with tears, "I guess he's an alright bloke, 'Mione. I just want you to be happy." And Hermione wanted to cry again, but settled for cupping his cheeks tenderly with a shaky smile, "You are the best friend I have ever had. And I love you, more than I can ever say."

With that, they both gave a quick nod and parted, Hermione, circling back around to return to Draco's side. He immediately pulled her into the circle of his arms and buried his face in her curls. Hermione remained there until Arthur stood and helped Molly up at the sound of the Floo activating and a very sombre looking Minerva McGonagall walked into the kitchen and gave a gentle nod to the distraught parents.

"If everyone would please follow me," the now Headmistress said kindly, and everyone rose from their seats and followed the witch and Arthur and Molly out the kitchen door and out into the backyard. Just as their procession reached the bottom of the hill and began to climb, the sound of apparation could be heard cracking through the air, over and over and over again. Hermione glanced back over her shoulder and saw every member of the Order along with many of their classmates.

The dust in her chest, where her heart used to reside, slowly began to reform and heal with the outpouring of love for her friend. How Fred would laugh and crack jokes at their expense. She could almost hear him telling them all he never knew they all adored him so much, but not to worry because there was plenty of Fred-love to go around. Leaning her head against Draco's sturdy shoulder, and holding his hand with both of her own, Hermione glanced to her left and was comforted by the presence of Lucius, flaking her other side. Narcissa on his other side, holding his hand. She felt a hand press against her back as if to steady her as they continued the climb and Hermione closed her eyes with a tremulous smile - knowing it was Lucius' hand, offering her silent strength in her time of need.


	4. Chapter 4

After that day at the Burrow, the Malfoys were extended a permanent invitation to the Weasley's Sunday dinner and not only on Hermione's behalf. May rapidly gave way to June, and on the fifth of that month - Narcissa and Hermione planned and threw a small birthday party for Draco. It was nothing as grand as it may have once been, but they were living in a different, better world these days. Still, Hermione managed to get nearly all the Weasleys to attend, excluding Charlie and George, respectively. And no one could possibly hold it against either of them. Charlie had to return to Romania and it was still too soon for George to face the world without his twin.

In addition to the Weasley family, Narcissa helped Hermione get in contact with Blaise Zabini who had fled to Italy with his mother when the war became more than just a topic of conversation and found his closest friends being forced into something they didn't want. Hermione had also been able to invite Theodore Nott, a friend of Draco's since they'd been in nappies. When the man of the hour strolled into the dining room expecting a family dinner celebration, he was knocked back several feet in shock at the sight of so many people suddenly singing 'Happy Birthday!' to him.

After he'd recovered, Draco had marched directly into the room and pulled Hermione into a deep kiss, one that left her toes curling and her heart racing. Their tongues slid sinuously against one another for several heartbeats before the catcalling began. With great reluctance, Draco pulled away, tugging gently on Hermione's bottom lip with his teeth before releasing them with a sigh.

"What did I ever do to deserve someone like you, Granger?" The affectionate way his tongue curled around her surname sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. One evening, following a ridiculous conversation about pet names, where the pair had grown more and more absurd with each suggestion - Draco had looked at her for a long moment, running his hand through her curls and admitted, "Sometimes I miss calling you Granger, so I think, if I had to choose anything, it would be that." Hermione had predictably melted and though he rarely used it, preferring her given name, she always smiled when he called her Granger.

The evening was a grand success and when the Weasleys had taken their leave, Draco had pulled her along with him as the three reunited Slytherins moved out to the patio to continue catching up. He'd pulled her down in his lap and tucked her head under his chin, while they talked and soon enough their gentle murmuring, even with Theo's several excited, random outbursts, lulled Hermione to sleep.

Following Draco's birthday, June rapidly bled into July. Every morning Hermione would wake and rush through her morning routine so she could get down to breakfast faster. She was eager for the daily owl post. They hadn't yet found her parents, but the investigators sent her daily updates and were finally on her parents trail. With good news sending her already good mood soaring, Hermione dug into her breakfast while relaying the new information to Lucius and Narcissa. Draco's loud yawn preceded him dropping into the chair across from Hermione with an adoring grin, "Morning, love. Sleep well?"

Hermione smiled around her bite of marmalade covered toast and she nodded her head, sighing happily at the sight of her Veela. They'd continued to grow closer with every passing day, and Hermione had begun to consider completing the bond. The only thing holding her back from readily accepting was that while she knew she was falling for Draco, she wanted to be absolutely certain the emotion she had been feeling was love and not potent lust. It was important to both of them that she love him and want him, for he is and who he was before they completed a permanent bond, soulmates or not.

"Apparently the heat wave isn't scheduled to break until tomorrow when the rain should return," Lucius announced from behind his paper. Lowering it enough to look at his son over the edge he offered a smile, "Why don't you take Miss Granger swimming down at the lake?"

Draco thoughtfully chewed his food before looking at Hermione and smirking, "What do you say, Granger? Fancy a dip today?"

Laughing at his playful mood, which had been his intent, Hermione grinned and accepted. Really, it had been miserable the past two days and if she had to spend another day sweating in places that shouldn't sweat - she might just lose her mind. Lucius and Narcissa would be busy all day, overseeing the renovation of the drawing room. Not only did none of them ever wish to lay eyes on the room as it was in their memories, Voldemort had apparently taken his initial rage out on that room. The chandelier had been blasted into shimmering glass powder, and all the ornate fixtures had been treated to blasting curses, as well.

The four chatted amiably over breakfast before going their separate ways following breakfast. Hermione and Draco had raced each other up the stairs, before heading to their own rooms to change. Her two-piece suit was in a deep hunter green and she slid a pale yellow sundress over it. She quickly set her fingers to weaving her thick, heavy hair into a tight french braid. No one needed to see the catastrophe it would resemble if she left it free to air dry outside. Slipping into a pair of light sandals, Hermione grabbed her trusty bag with its undetectable extension charm and threw two of the oversized, super fluffy towels in her bag along with a bottle of sun protection potion that smelled of coconuts and marshmallows.

Draco met her in the hall, swim trunks hanging low on his hips and a tight, simple white t-shirt that stretched deliciously over his pectoral muscles. He also wore socks and trainers, but they would have to ride Eros to reach the lake, and he didn't feel comfortable doing so in sandals. His pale eyes trailed over her body before meeting her amused stare, and Draco shrugged. "You can't stand there, looking like that and not expect me not to appreciate the view."

"Appreciate all you like," Hermione gigged which turned into a squeal as he picked her up and spun her around briefly before placing a sound kiss on her eager lips. Then Draco set her down on her feet and moved to stand in front of her, bending at the knees. Hermione stared at the back of his head in confusion for several seconds before Draco gave a huff.

"Are you going to hop on or am I going to have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you down that way?" Hermione snorted at his acerbic tone, knowing it was all in jest. Though she couldn't for the life of her know why he wanted to give her a piggyback ride, she found it hard to deny him anything and so she hopped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Hold on tight, Hermione," Draco ordered and waited until she tightened her hold before beginning their descent downstairs.

* * *

Eros was hitched to a tree roughly twenty yards from the lake and in the shade before the couple stripped off their clothes and folded them. Hermione looked around for a safe spot to leave their belongings - just in case the unlikely happened and the sky opened up with a deluge. As her eyes were lighting upon a gorgeous weeping willow, maybe fifteen feet from the water's edge - Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from Hermione and her exquisite form and creamy skin.

He'd never seen so much skin revealed to his naked eye from a member of the opposite sex before, but the fact that it was his mate, and that she was perfect, stole his breath away. Quickly shifting his burgeoning erection so that it wouldn't be standing tall and proud when Hermione next looked his way, Draco followed after her once she disappeared under the hanging green canopy of the willow.

"Oh, this is perfect," she whispered to herself and startled before laughing when Draco's arms wrapped around her waist and he placed a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. Then with a gentle swat to her bum, he chuckled at her screech of indignation.

"It is pretty nice under here, a little cooler that's for sure and the shade will be kind to my delicate skin," Draco drawled playfully - peppering soft kisses along the column of Hermione's throat. She sighed in pleasure before shaking herself out of his trance.

"Yes, considering your delicate skin, I brought a sun protection potion and as well as a towel for each of us. If you cover my back, I'll cover yours?" She offered sweetly.

Wordlessly Draco held out his hand and took the potion from her. Hermione turned, pulling her long braid over her shoulder, and offering him the open expanse of her back. He shook some of the decadent smelling potion into his hands and rubbed them together a few times to warm the liquid before Draco began massaging the potion into Hermione's skin. Though he was no longer surprised by the softness of her skin, Draco still relished the feel of it under his hands.

When his thumbs kneaded the muscles at the back of Hermione's neck, she moaned softly and Draco's entire body shuddered at the erotic sound. A low purr began rumbling from his chest and for once, he didn't fight the urge to do so. Hermione relaxed further at the sound and gave a breathy sigh as his hands slid down over her deltoids and along her ribs. Every instinct was screaming at him to pull her back against his chest, sliding his hands around her waist and up, up, up and under the dark green fabric covering the swells over her breasts. Resolutely, Draco shook the thoughts away and continued to lovingly massage the potion over every square inch of exposed skin on her back.

When Hermione spun to face him, her pupils were blown wide with desire, much like Draco imagined his own to be. She swallowed - a loud sound in the otherwise quiet space aside from their mutually panting breaths. "Your turn," Hermione breathed and Draco dutifully turned exposing his muscled back to her eyes and she bit her bottom lip to hold back another moan at the sight of it. Shaking the potion into her hands, she too attempted to warm the concoction before beginning to knead it into his back. The witch decided, there and then that it had felt so wonderful when he massaged her neck and because he'd been holding himself back for weeks, respecting their agreed upon boundaries, making him tenser by the day - that she would massage the potion into his skin in its entirety.

Hermione's small hands gently kneaded at each of his taut muscles, bringing small grunts and groans of pleasure from him that set her skin aflame. She paid special attention to his shoulders, not only was he carrying the majority of his tension there - he also had ridiculously attractive shoulders. A brief flash of Hermione biting down on said shoulder, while in the throes of passion obscured her vision and the witch shifted her thighs against one another to briefly relieve the ache suddenly pulsing between her legs.

Once again, as she had many times over the past several weeks, she regretted making their agreement on when they would become intimate and fulfil the bond. And just as predictably, her frustration at her inability to decide whether what she felt for Draco was truly love, and not just some fiery infatuation well on its way to becoming love, raged. They were both virgins, both raised to believe in saving yourself for the person you would share the rest of your life with. It was a decision that meant so much to both of them, Hermione kept reminding herself as she finished massaging the potion into Draco's skin.

"Thank you," He croaked in a strained, hoarse voice. He didn't turn to face her immediately, and she understood why.

"You're welcome," Hermione replied in an equally husky voice that sounded nothing like her regular speaking voice. She watched as the muscles in Draco's back rippled at the sound of her voice and her knees grew weak.

"Potion," he barked. "Please," he added in a much gentler, yet still gruff voice. Hermione knew it was because this seemingly innocent activity had tested his already strained patience to its limit. She placed the jar in his hand and watched as Draco shook out a large enough amount for the rest of his body before handing it back to her. He then walked directly out from under the green canopy of the willow and started towards the water's edge, rubbing the potion in as he went.

Hermione followed his lead and remain where she was as she rubbed the potion into her remaining, unprotected skin. A few minutes later, she was finished and she exited the tree's hanging greenery and immediately skipped to Draco's side. He smiled over at her when Hermione came to a stop beside him and then picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder and went running into the lake, laughing all the while Hermione screamed and smacked at his bum in retribution.

* * *

A couple of hours later after much swimming, cuddling in the water and kissing, when the sun was directly overhead and both of them were showing signs of fatigue, the pair pulled themselves from the water and took refuge from the unforgiving rays under their willow tree. Once wrapped in their towels, Draco called out. "Tilly!" And the house-elf appeared carrying a picnic basket. She grinned widely at the couple and winked before popping away and both Draco and Hermione laughed at the elf's obvious delight at their romance.

Draco pulled out a pair of delicious looking sandwiches, a small fruit and cheese plate and two icy bottles of butterbeer. Hermione snuggled into his side as they ate and teased one another back and forth. Taking the last sip of her drink, and with her stomach full, Hermione felt like a fat, contented cat. Draco put all their waste and plates back in the basket, after pulling out a book. He then stretched his leg out in front of him and patted his lap. With a sigh of satisfaction, Hermione laid back, resting her head on his lap.

Draco looked down at her with a smile so full of adoration it almost hurt to look at, before opening the book with one hand, his other untying her damp braid and running through Hermione's curls in gentle, loving strokes. It took less than a minute for Hermione to realize that Draco was reading Pride and Prejudice to her, and she allowed her eyes to fall closed listening to his comforting and familiar timbre recite words she very nearly knew by heart. Draco would drag his blunt nails down her scalp every now and again, pulling small satisfactory noises from her without her permission.

Hermione enthusiastically enjoyed this peaceful medium between awake and asleep, floating in the warmth of Draco's masculine voice reading aloud. His hand in her hair never stopped moving, the same soothing motions over and over. A pattern made to turn Hermione into a pile goo, she was sure of it. The more interested in the story he became, the more he put into the character's words. A few times, during the scenes where Miss Bennet and Mr Darcy are bickering, Draco's grey eyes would flick down to her peaceful, smiling face and he would grin from ear to ear. A full, crooked smile that showed him to be as young as he was. His usually stoic mask hadn't been around as much lately, but he often looked several years older while wearing it.

Hermione focused on Draco's voice, she loved the sound of it. Once upon a time, hearing his drawl caused a chill of dread to run down her spine and cause white-hot licks of fiery anger to shoot through her system. Now? Hermione would hear his voice from down the hall and her heart would begin to race. She would smile and run to her door, throwing it wide open so that she could throw herself into his arms as if they'd spent weeks apart instead of a couple hours.

She heard him pause in reading and felt him bend to press a lingering kiss to her lips, and Hermione hummed in delight. Draco's smooth chuckle followed and she added another sound he was responsible for that she loved. And funnily enough, it was precisely the opposite when they were children. Hermione couldn't help but smile as she thought on just how far they'd come this summer. She couldn't remember the last time they really fought, all of their current bickering being an idle flirtation between the two.

Her curiosity piqued, Hermione started flipping back through her catalogue of memories, trying to remember the last time Draco had called her a Mudblood. Her heart stopped beating for a moment when she realized the last time he said the word in her presence, at least that she could recall, was in Madame Malkin's dress shop. Hermione's heart jumped back to life, beating in double-time and she had to force herself to keep her eyes closed, lest she give away her train of thought completely.

Granted it could have been his task that year, and how it took all of his time, that was really the reason she heard very little from him that year. With a bit of a start, she could clearly remember watching him with something like concern during every meal and getting so angry with Harry because of his fixation and stalker-like tendencies. And when Harry had cursed Draco with Sectumsempra, Hermione had been so livid she refused to speak to him for two weeks.

Another heart-stopping moment hit Hermione then and this time her eyes snapped open, staring straight into Draco's own bemused gaze. He'd stopped reading minutes ago, the wheels in Hermione's head turning so loudly he could hear them himself. She stared at him with wide, emotion leaden eyes and Draco slowly frowned, marking their page and setting the book down beside him.

"What's wrong?" He questioned worriedly. She had been so happy just moments ago and now her body was tense, and her emotions were all over the place. It had taken him a while to understand exactly what had happened that day in the Weasley's kitchen. Draco had known instinctively that Hermione had accepted the bond the moment he felt the vise-like grip that surrounded his heart disappear; he'd dealt with the crushing sensation for so long it was a shock for it to be gone. But as the two of them were often in similar moods, it took longer for him to notice some things he felt were not his own emotions. With a little playful testing, Draco was able to deduce that - with the acceptance of the bond - the Veela can feel the emotions of their mate, so he can better meet her needs and expectations.

He just hadn't figured out how to tell her that yet.

Hermione licked her lips as she held his stare and let out a quick nervous breath before speaking quickly, "When did your ideas on blood purity change?" And she immediately followed her question up with a cringe. Shocked as Draco was with the abrupt change in tone of their afternoon, he would deny her nothing and so, he resumed running his fingers through her wild curls and answered her truthfully.

"During sixth year," He murmured quietly. It wasn't something he'd discussed with anyone before. "As you know, I had my task from him to complete - with the threat of both of my parent's deaths as the consequence of failure. I knew he had set me up to fail, too. He was punishing our family for my father's perceived failure at the Ministry. He told me, over Easter -" here Draco paused and ran a finger tenderly along her jawline and down the column of her throat, as if the mere mention of that time necessitated him proving she was real, here laying in his lap, and not some figment of his imagination. Then Draco picked up right where he left off, " - that he didn't particularly see the importance in striking down a group of children the same age as his son. He told me he watched you fall from a curse from Dolohov, and even though you were everything he hated at the time, he still hoped you wouldn't die from it." His free hand brushed along the scar that marred her chest and stomach, and Draco's breathed hitched, "My father isn't a monster. He was taught the Pureblood ways from childhood on, just like I was. Everything was about tradition and following those Malfoys who led our family before us."

With a long sigh, Draco continued, "By that point, even my father was disillusioned with him. We were prisoners in our own home. I was terrified to leave my room, never knowing if I'd accidentally displease someone or just run into the wrong person in passing. But I'm getting off track, you asked when my opinions changed. I didn't take as long as my father to become disillusioned with...Voldemort."

Hermione reached up and squeezed his shoulder in support, knowing how hard and terrifying it must be to actually say his name aloud for Draco. He turned his head with a smile and placed a kiss atop her hand, before returning to his story and his hand to her curls.

"I wasn't given the opportunity of a choice. Take the Mark or watch as Voldemort slowly tortured my parents to death, and listen to him threaten them in vivid detail. They would both be Crucio'd until they were incapacitated enough that they couldn't fight back and then they would be raped, all while I watched until one of us begged for mercy. Only then would he, like the kind and merciful Lord we all know him to be, would grant the mercy of death."

Hermione hated the detached quality in Draco's voice but knew he had to deal with these horrifying memories somehow. And if separating himself from it all helped him move past it one day, then who was she to judge. She moved her hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek, willing her magic to soothe him through her touch. She knew the moment Draco felt it because he gasped and closed his eyes but his shoulders relaxed and his jaw unclenched.

"That's when I realized what I'd be. A slave. To a madman. And after suffering through the pain of receiving the Dark Mark, and the sickness that plagued me following the initial influx of Dark Magic into my system - I found myself questioning a lot of things. He had his own agenda. He wanted total world domination and nothing else would do. Eventually, I realized his Pureblood rhetoric was nothing more than propaganda. He was a Half-Blood himself. The more I got to thinking about it, the more I realized that there was no verifiable proof that those of pure blood and those who have varying degrees of muggle blood are significantly different in any way.

"But there are complications caused by isolating the Pureblood families and all the interminglings of the bloodlines. I snuck a muggle human biology textbook home once and I was blown away by all the things I learned. Most importantly is the increased risk of birth defects and mental impairments caused by what Muggles call incestual relationships. Marrying cousins isn't exactly celebrated in the Wizarding world, either. But if a family is under too much pressure to marry off their heir, or daughter - it has been known to happen.

"It made me wonder if the increase in Squibs, the low birth rates, the sheer amount of insanity that runs rampant throughout our world was all caused by our ancestors and then ourselves for clinging so stringently to the Pureblood traditions."

When Draco finished speaking, Hermione stared at him in silence, allowing her hand to drift away from his cheek, down his neck to his chest, coming to rest over his heart. The hand not buried in her hair covered her smaller one and he gave a big, heavy sigh. "What brought this on, Hermione?"

She could tell by the softness in his gaze and puzzled tone of his voice that he wasn't angry over her question, Draco just wanted clarification. He didn't like being in the dark any more than Hermione did. Taking a steadying breath, she gazed at him with her heart in her eyes, "Just a bit of an epiphany."

"This should be interesting, please don't keep me in suspense," Draco teased with an uncertain smile. He couldn't get a clear read on her emotions, as much as they were rapidly changing from one to another nearly as quickly as he could sense them. As irrational as it was, fear that she'd leave engulfed him and each beat of his heart thudded painfully in his chest.

"I believe I just figured out when the bond started forming," Hermione whispered. She was so busy still reeling from her discovery that Draco's internal panic went by unnoticed until he breathed a gusty sigh of relief. Offering her Veela an apologetic smile, correctly assuming what had been running through his mind.

"And you think it had something to do with my changing beliefs?" Reassured, Draco relaxed and moved on from her curls, dragging his fingertips up and down the length of her arm, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. Her answering nod was slow, obviously still thinking her epiphany through. In fact, Hermione felt that she had stumbled upon exactly what solidified the bond between them with such conviction, she simply knew it must be true.

"While you were internalizing all of your thoughts and stresses in sixth year," Hermione murmured while squeezing his hand, remembering the constant haunted expression that he just couldn't seem to mask. "Harry was driving me mad with his obsessive observations regarding your behavior, but it made me pay closer attention myself. I worried about you. You weren't eating. Judging by the dark circles that only worsened as the year progressed, you couldn't have been sleeping. And when I found out that Harry had cursed you," her voice faltered and Draco pulled her up so that she was sitting before pulling her onto his lap, his chest to her back. Wrapped in his comforting arms, Hermione cleared her throat before continuing.

"I was so angry, Draco," she breathed. "I screamed at him until I was nearly hoarse. I'm pretty sure I pummelled his shoulder pretty hard if my bruised knuckles the next morning were any indication." He felt her sigh, "I wouldn't talk to him for two weeks. And even once I had accepted his apology, though it wasn't me he didn't should have apologized to, I still gave him the cold shoulder for a while. So, while you were questioning everything you thought you knew - I was busy harboring secret feelings of compassion and fear for you."

"You were angry at Potter for cursing me? Even after everything I had done and said to you?" Draco asked in a strained voice, as his arms tightened around her middle.

"He never should have used that spell not knowing what it would do!" The growl in her words brought tears to his eyes. "Harry could have killed you, Draco! I would never have forgiven him."

"Why?" his voice was rough with emotion. This witch had no idea the effect she had on him. The idea that she had cared enough to not only berate one of her best friends but also physically attack the git, struck a very sensitive chord buried under years of feeling like a disappointment. A failure. A person who's worth had been measured and he'd been found lacking. Then she had spent weeks so angry on his behalf, Hermione couldn't even bring herself to talk to Potter.

Draco buried his face in the curve of her neck, trying and failing to wrap his mind around what she'd told him. It was incomprehensible. He had a hard enough time understanding how he could get so lucky, having Granger as his mate. Perhaps he wouldn't have always thought so, but if Draco really took the time to turn inward and pick apart all the things he'd ever felt in regards to Hermione - even at his worst, at his cruelest and vilest he still admired her intelligence, respected her brazen attitude - for he knew she could and would back it up with either her wand, or her fists. And then a memory flashed before his eyes.

A memory he'd long ago shoved inside a box in the very back of his mind. Then, he had built wall after wall in front of it, brick by brick - stone by stone. Until it was not only easily forgotten but safe from anyone who might decide to go digging through everything in his mind. The Awakening had obliterated all of his security measures; they were no longer necessary.

When he'd spotted her before entering the Yule Ball in their fourth year, Draco had pulled a double-take. He could remember freezing and being unable to tear his eyes away as Hermione descended the stairs. She'd been a vision of loveliness and he hadn't known what to do with himself for thinking so. And yet, as hard as Draco tried, he couldn't find a single flaw to use to his advantage. He'd watched with fear gripping his chest and making his breaths choppy as she greeted Viktor Krum with a smile that lit up the room.

Draco blinked and realized he'd been staring absently at the wispy, green tendrils of the willow fluttering in the wind.

"Why?" Hermione barked, a hint of anger sharpening her tone. "You were a bully, Draco Malfoy. You know this as much as I do, but you didn't deserve to die for it!" Turning so that she sat across his lap and could see his face, Hermione continued, her voice softening with each word. "And now? I couldn't imagine you not here with me. If Snape hadn't appeared when he did…" Her exhale was shaky as she shook her head back and forth forcefully.

"But he did and I'm right here," Draco brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear and out of her face, before leaning forward and kissing her softly. Just a quick brush of their lips, in hopes that it would offer her the same comfort kissing her, gave him.

Her eyes had drifted shut when he leaned forward, and when she opened them to meet his soft, grey stare sparkling with all the love he felt for her, Hermione knew. In fact, she'd known for a while but like always, had gone a little overboard in over-analyzing every tiny aspect of what she felt for Draco. But no longer.

"I love you," she declared in a clear, sure voice. "I love you so much, Draco."

He'd frozen. Still as a marble statue. The only indication he'd heard her was the way his eyes darkened and began to smoulder. Then he drew in a shaky breath before two fat tears escaped the confines of his lashes and slid down the sides of his face. Jerking back to life, Draco framed Hermione's face with his hands. He gasped, "I love you," before crushing his lips against hers, needily deepening the kiss to try and sate the overwhelming desire to be closer to her.

Draco knew he could never truly deserve the witch in his arms, kissing his lips, and apparently loving him in her own quiet and sure way. That didn't mean he couldn't try to. There was no end to the lengths at which Draco would go to ensure Hermione's happiness. Whatever her heart desired, it was hers.

She'd given him everything he longed for with those three words.

Acceptance. Forgiveness. Love. Hope. Joy.

He decided there and then, he was the luckiest bastard in the world.

* * *

The days continued to speed by. Summer seemed to be set to fast forward this year when all Hermione and Draco wanted was more time together - exploring their bond and what it meant for them. Eventually, Draco sat Hermione down and explained the emotional connection between them. As he had worried over and predicted, Hermione wasn't thrilled with the new information.

Hermione knew of the phenomena, the witch was nothing if not studious to a fault, she had simply believed this particular gift wouldn't appear until after their bonding was complete. Draco soothed her frayed nerves by assuring once they had completed the mating bond entirely, she would also be privy to his emotions. He had carefully cupped her cheeks and stared deeply into her eyes, explaining that it was not only to assist Veela in making their mates happy but also key in protecting one's mate and strengthening what would already be an incredibly powerful bond.

The moment his skin touched hers, however, Hermione was lost in sensation. Since their open declaration of love, every touch felt heavier, filled with the promise of things to come. Their nights were spent together, neither of two willing to part when their evenings spent in one another's company came to an end. Instead, two nights after Hermione had first told him that she loved him, Draco had kept ahold of her hand and pulled her into his bedroom. He'd pressed her back against the cool, smooth surface of his bedroom door and kissed her like he'd been starving for a taste of her lips for centuries.

"Nothing has to happen tonight," Draco had murmured into their kiss. "I just want to hold you in my arms while we sleep."

The way his tongue slid sinfully against hers, and the hardness Hermione felt stirring and elongating against the softness of her stomach begged to differ. Still, the witch returned his kiss with a passion that rivalled that of her Veela. Her hands, which had been gripping the bunching muscles of Draco's shoulders, slid up the velvet soft skin of his neck and into his snow-white locks. She twisted her fingers at the back of his head and tugged on his hair, causing the most delicious stinging pain at his roots.

Draco's hands had dropped to the curve of her bum, gripping and kneading the plump flesh as their teeth and tongues battled for dominance. Little whimpers from Hermione sent Draco into a bit of a frenzy - and next he knew his hands were lifting her by her arse, and like the good girl she was, Hermione's legs immediately wrapped around his waist. His groan was long and loud as his hips settled between her own, so close yet so far from where he dreamed of being buried to the hilt. "Fuck," Draco ground out, his hips shifting slightly against Hermione's, hoping to relieve even the slightest amount of the ache between his legs.

"Not like this," he'd whispered hoarsely after finally pulling away from her pillow-soft lips. Draco immediately began placing suckling kisses along the column of Hermione's throat, grinding against her with more force following each of her soft, sensual moans. His fingertips danced along the ridges of her spine, over her rib cage and to her satin-covered breasts. Draco had been unable to hold back his own groan of pleasure both from the friction of their shifting hips, and from the feel of her tight buds under the silken fabric.

Round and around his fingertips circled and tweaked the proud peaks of her nipples, devouring with his mouth, the whimpers, sighs and moans that fell from her lips because of his exquisite torture. "Oh fuck," Draco breathed against her lips as Hermione began lifting the hem of her shirt. They pulled apart just long enough for the fabric to be ripped over her head and thrown somewhere over his shoulder before coming back together with mutual moans of pleasure.

Draco rocked his hips against hers sharply, groaning at the sensation and the sight of her satin encased breasts heaving from her ragged breathing and the cloud of lust fogging their minds. Precum leaked from the head of his cock, and Draco found himself purring loudly as he tore his lips from Hermione's and brought them to wrap around one of her sensitive, covered nipples and suck - the animalistic sound only seemed to encourage Hermione, who dropped her head back and arched into his mouth with a breathy sigh of his name, "Oh! Draco."

When her small hand wrapped around his cock through his trousers, both the Veela within and Draco growled in approval. She tightened her fist around him and gave a slow, teasing stroke before murmuring, "It's so big." Draco nearly came in his pants. With a grunt, and unable to stop shifting and flexing his hips, driving his cock against Hermione's hot little hand, again and again, Draco pulled her back from the door and strode towards the large bed in the middle of the room.

"I have plans for us," he announced in a tight voice while placing her on the bed, stripping off his shirt and crawling over her body. "When I make you my mate, I plan to woo you properly beforehand. I want to give you the romance you deserve," he all but growled while pressing her body further into the soft mattress with his own. Hermione mewled softly, quite like a little kitten, as more and more of their heated skin touched.

"But you're driving me crazy," Draco groaned into the soft skin of her neck, placing soft, wet kisses to every inch of exposed to him. Pausing over her thrumming pulse, he laved the spot that would bear his mark with the flat of his tongue, before suckling hard against the tender flesh. Draco's chest rumbled with a growl that slowly morphed into a constant purr once more, at the sight of her bruised skin. Not the mark his Veela was begging and pleading for him to give Hermione, but enough to appease the frantic urge to claim his mate.

Draco ran a hand down her soft stomach and over the front of her denim shorts, pausing only when he cupped her sex with the palm of his hand. Covering her moaning mouth with his own, all of his attention was on the throbbing heat of her sex bucking against his hand and Hermione's silky tongue teasing his own. Purring louder, unable to stop and unwilling to care, Draco pulled back to kneel between Hermione's legs. At her whine of protest, he leaned forward and kissed her deeply, biting down on her plump bottom lip and gently tugging at it as he pulled away.

His hands only shook slightly as they hovered above the button of her shorts, and Draco's slate grey eyes burned silver with pent-up passion and longing as they stared into her own. "May I touch you?" he breathed in an almost reverent whisper. Hermione couldn't nod her head fast enough, and she nearly whined, "Please."

Draco popped the button and lowered her zip, hissing in pleasure as matching silver, satin panties were revealed when he pulled Hermione's denim shorts down her creamy, sun-kissed thighs and off her shapely legs. He glanced back up at his witch and a loud gasp was ripped from his lungs at the sight of her bare breasts, his sneaky witch had discarded the offending brasserie when Draco's attention had been diverted. "You're bloody gorgeous," he croaked and crawled above her once more, dipping his chin and sucking a pert, dusty rose-colored nipple into his mouth.

"Oh!" Gasped Hermione, arching her back away from the mattress and wrapping her arms around Draco's neck. Her body felt like fire was trapped just beneath her skin and the inferno only increased with every rapid beat of her heart. When Draco's hand cupped her pitifully neglected breast and then pinched and rolled its nipple between the pads of his fingers, Hermione's womb seemed to grow heavier with desire and she cried out his name. The need in her voice must've spurred something within Draco, because his free hand slid down her stomach and under the hem of her knickers, gently touching the downy soft strip of hair that led to the treasure below.

His fingertips brushed Hermione's swollen, sensitive clit and they both groaned in harmony when her hips bucked away from the bed. Not finished with his tender investigation, Draco delicately traced her lower lips and ground his hips against the mattress with a whimper at the wet proof of Hermione's arousal. Releasing her nipple with a pop, Draco kissed Hermione, lapping at her lips in the way he'd like to if his face was buried between her legs. He swallowed her deep moan when he pressed one fingertip against her tight, virgin hole and tightened his grip on her breast with a growl at the welcoming heat of her pussy. A few gentle pumps of his hand later, Draco pulled his glistening digit from her knickers and sucked it into his mouth with a groan that made Hermione's sex clench in reaction.

"Gods, Hermione." The way he moaned out her name made gooseflesh rise and cover her naked frame. "May I taste you?" Draco rubbed her pussy through the satin fabric, pressing between the lips and smirking as her arousal soaked through the satin. "Here," he added unnecessarily as Hermione had already begun tugging at the sides of her underwear. Draco smacked her hands away, growling appreciatively as they moved to palm her tits - squeezing the nipple between her dainty little fingers, and dragged the offending satin off her legs before lifting a leg over each shoulder and burying his nose into the fragrant curls at the apex of her sex.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, Draco moaned at the heady scent of her arousal - deeper, richer and earthier than her normal intoxicating scent. Reaching between himself and the bed, Draco popped the button of his trousers and lowered the zip, hissing in relief as a bit of the pressure was relieved from his aching cock. With one last lungful of Hermione's sex-laden scent, he ran the flat of his tongue along the seam of her glistening labia. He placed a restraining arm across her hips as they bucked wildly off the bed, Hermione's cry drowned out by the growling purr escaping Draco's chest at the first taste of her.

One taste was all it took to ignite a frenzy within the Veela. He could feel Hermione's pleasure and arousal through the bond and it left him panting against her sex, with an intense need to bring his mate to orgasm guiding his movements. Draco sucked her lower lips into his mouth, feeling the damp spot in his own shorts spreading as his cock continued to weep with desire. Hermione's hands returned to his hair, pulling him closer to her pussy by the roots as her hips rolled gently against his mouth.

When his tongue probed through her slit and found her honeyed hole, Draco couldn't fight the urge to thrust his tongue inside and his cock twitched at how tightly she clenched around it. He teased her hole, plunging his tongue in and out in a perfect imitation of his rocking hips, responding to each of her moans in kind. He lapped at the juices dripping from her sex, listening as her voice climbed higher and higher, urgency coloring her tone. When it seemed as if she could take no more, Draco finally sucked her swollen clit into his mouth and flicked the tender bud with the tip of his tongue until Hermione was wailing through her orgasm, grinding her pussy against his face and tongue in the most sinful of ways.

"Draco, Draco, Draco…" fell from her lips like a breathy prayer and he couldn't help but puff his chest out a bit with pride at making his witch come undone on his tongue. Moving up his trembling witch's body, Draco placed soft, reverent kisses beneath her navel, between her ribs, on each breast and over her thundering heart before capturing her lips in another desperate kiss. This brought his stiff, cloth covered erection directly in contact with the pulsing heat of her sex and Draco was thankful their warring tongues muffled his cry of pleasure.

Hermione tightened her grip around his hips and rolled them so Draco laid under her, gazing up at her in shock - an expression so adorable on his usually stoic face that she couldn't help but chuckle and drop a lingering kiss on his lips. When she crawled between his legs and began lowering his trousers and shorts, Draco popped up on his elbows. "Hermione, love you don't have to - ughhhh..." His words trailed off into a long, deep groan that sent a shiver through her very core when her kiss-bruised lips wrapped around the bulbous head of his cock and she began to suckle at the weeping tip.

"Shh, let me return the favor," Hermione whispered against the sensitive underside of his shaft before curling her tongue a certain way and Draco fell back, clenching his eyes shut as his hands buried themselves in her wild, sex-mussed curls. His hips bucked away from the mattress when her lips found his sac, brushing softly back and forth before gently suckling each in turn.

"Merlin, witch! Where did you learn to do that?" Draco couldn't help but growl out the question, irrational jealousy sparking a fuse buried deep within. He never imagined being such a possessive partner, believing any future union of his would be arranged and likely loveless for the duration. But the thought of Hermione's mouth sliding down another man's shaft the way she was currently sinking down on his cock, had Draco's fists tightening in her curls. "Mine," he growled, thrusting gently into her warm mouth.

Hermione released him with a kiss to the head that made Draco hiss, a smirk playing on her lips. "Are you jealous?" When he only snarled in response, she stroked his twitching cock in her fist and answered his question. "There are muggle magazines that give tips and detailed descriptions of what to do to bring your partner the most pleasure. I thought it would be a waste of knowledge if I ignored them."

The angry knot he'd felt in his gut loosened and his grin was jovial when he chuckled, "A total waste, I agree."

And this time, when Hermione took his length back into her mouth, Draco kept his eyes on hers. After enjoying several minutes of her mouth bobbing on his cock, her tongue teasing the steadily leaking slit - he began to guide her mouth over him when his balls began to tighten. Draco mentally thanked all the old gods and the new that he'd somehow managed not to cum in his shorts, but also hadn't lost it the moment her lips wrapped around him. Low grunts escaped him with each thrust into her mouth, his hands in her hair tugging and pulling as he gently urged her to take more, to take his cock just a bit deeper when he hit the back of her throat.

"Fuck, oh fuck," Draco gasped and pulled back only slightly before surging forward once again. Her eyes sparkled back at him as he fucked her mouth and Draco found himself floored once more by an overwhelming surge of love for his witch. "Love you," he rasped and Hermione swallowed around the head of his cock in response releasing the tension in his sac and Draco tried to pull Hermione away, feeling his release working its way up his shaft, only seconds away from exploding in her pretty little mouth.

The stubborn witch smacked his hands away and continued hollowing out her cheeks around his shaft. Draco's head fell back and his eyes finally drifted shut with a groan, "Hermione." Intense pleasure burst forth where a knot of tension had been in his gut and his back arched sharply off the bed as his release left him in long spurts Hermione readily swallowed down. He felt more than he saw his witch gather the duvet, curl up against his side and cover their naked, sweat covered skin to ward off the chill of the night air.

Turning to face her, Draco brushed several wayward curls away from Hermione's sleepy eyes before leaning in and kissing her softly, sweetly, and with all the love his heart held for her. "I love you, too," Hermione murmured and grinned against his lips, momentarily startling him thinking she'd felt the emotions from him and was answering in kind, before recalling her mouth was otherwise occupied when he'd told her he loved her earlier. Tucking her head beneath his chin, with her head pillowed against one arm, his other wrapped around her hip - Draco breathed in her scent in greedy gulps.

He hadn't believed contentment like this existed before Hermione came into his life.

With her warm body pressed close to his own, her even, sleeping breaths fanning his skin, Draco felt the warm glow of pure happiness settle over him and guide him gently down the path to dreams of Hermione. Meeting him beneath the lush green canopy of their willow, dressed in white and making vows of forever in front of their families and friends. The couple working together in what appeared to be an apothecary, specializing in exclusive and rare potions. Hermione's darkened silhouette, complete with a round, swollen belly against the setting sun.

Even in his slumber, Draco held Hermione all the closer, his hands cradling her tenderly as his mind played through visions of a blissfully happy future with the witch slumbering within his protective embrace.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco told himself there was no need to be nervous, the evening he had planned for Hermione and himself was simple enough to pull off without a hitch. The Perseid would paint the night sky with falling stars, where they would watch as they fell to the earth beneath the magically altered canopy of their willow. Draco would read to Hermione, much like he had the first time they sat together there, hidden away from the world. He'd asked Tilly to deliver another picnic basket to their private haven, filled with ripe summer strawberries and other fruits, various cheeses and a bottle of the Malfoy's finest champagne chilling under a powerful cooling charm. Tilly had included the little mistresses' favorite rich chocolate mousse as well, hoping to offer a little extra sweetness to the young couple's special evening.

However, his father's earlier warning echoed heavily in mind.

"I'm loathe to place pressure on you, my son," Lucius had begun, his sombre voice heavy with importance. "But an unmarked mate of a Veela is at constant risk." When Draco snarled protectively, his father raised a calm hand in his son's direction and continued. "You would do anything, give anything to assure her safety Draco. This will remain true all the days of her life. This has always been an issue for Veela and their mates, especially if the Veela is of the likes of our family's means. It's easy enough to grab an unsuspecting witch and apparate away, keeping her bound and hidden until they receive whatever ungodly ransom they demand. Mated Veela have the added protection of being able to focus on their mate, on their mark, and travel immediately to their mate's side in moments of great duress."

Draco's body had trembled at the thought of someone taking Hermione from him, hiding her away in some putrid hellhole, while he sat waiting for her abductors' demands to arrive by owl. His father was right, there was no amount Draco wouldn't pay if it meant returning his witch safely to his arms. Anything that was his to give. No matter the treasure, no matter its worth. It all paled in comparison to Hermione.

"You both return to Hogwarts in just over two short weeks, Draco. I urge you to fulfil the bond before you go. I'd hate for anything to happen to either of you. Your mother and I love you both. We only want you to be safe and happy."

He could live without money. He could live without certain creature comforts. He could not live without Hermione Granger.

So, while Draco had planned for this evening to be the one when he'd lead his witch back to their bed, strip them slowly of their clothes and lay her down, before making slow and gentle love to her and completing the mating bond by biting into her tender flesh and marking her forever as his mate - he now felt fear so oppressive it bore down on him with enough force to slow his movements, like trying to walk through quicksand. It was a counterproductive effect, as he wanted to be free of this clawing fear of losing Hermione as quickly as possible, he needed to hurry along the beginning of their evening together.

Draco regretted telling Hermione he'd meet her in front of the stables at sundown, knowing he could have met her at her door as per usual and lead them down earlier had he been thinking clearly. He wore the dark blue three-piece suit Hermione had begged him to try on, then purchase on a shopping excursion to muggle London with his Mother. A smirk twisted his lips as Draco recalled her wide cinnamon colored eyes being nearly blotted out by her blown pupils and the husky timbre to her voice when she said, "You're buying that."

Shifting the sudden hardness in his trousers with a groan, Draco hung his jacket on a hook next to Eros' stall. He held out a palm full of sugar cubes to the black as pitch, winged horse and sighed. "She'll enjoy tonight won't she, boy?" The Veela within rolled its eyes, of course, she would. It was Hermione. How many times since he first read to her had she told him how much she loved it? Far too many to keep track of anyway. But the very human part of Draco worried and then worried some more.

Stress prickled the skin between his shoulder blades and Draco rolled his tense shoulders several times, trying to loosen up. The odd prickling sensation didn't lessen, but he forced all thoughts of it out of his mind when the soft pop announced Hermione's arrival. Sliding his jacket over his arm, as it really was too hot for it at the moment, Draco led Eros from his stall and out of the stable only to jerk to a stop when his eyes landed on the loveliest vision he'd ever seen.

Hermione was draped in a wispy, Grecian style dress, its soft cream color accentuating the golden summer glow her skin had taken. Draco was certain his mother played a part in Granger's appearance, but he didn't mind. Most of her hair was left in loose, tumbling curls down her back, but for a tiny braided crown atop her head held in place with an antique, emerald-encrusted platinum hair comb. He was certain his open-mouthed stare looked foolish, but Hermione only smiled softly while her cheeks warmed with a blush and Draco felt his pulse quicken.

"You're breathtaking, Hermione," he finally managed to recover a fraction of his earlier grace and pay his witch the compliment without making a further fool of himself.

"You're looking incredibly handsome yourself. Must be a special evening," Draco could detect the slightest amount of nerves in her voice and somehow, knowing she also felt it and understood, allowed him to relax in a way he hadn't been capable of before. Grinning widely at Hermione and holding out his hand, Draco agreed with a nod. This would be a night they remembered and treasured for the rest of their lives.

* * *

Though entirely expected, Hermione still squealed at the sight of their willow bathed in the moonlight, several branches magically moved and pinned aside, leaving an uninhibited view of the night sky while still under the trees wondrous canopy. Draco had gracefully unmounted Eros, leading the horse a ways away and tying his reins around a branch leaving the creature to graze. He lifted his arms to Hermione and she slid into them with a gracefulness she didn't often possess.

Draco kissed her lips tenderly and held her body close to his, her feet dangling inches from the ground, unable to go another moment without tasting her lips. Placing her on her feet, Hermione allowed Draco to take her hand in his and lead them back to their tree. She smiled at the sight of the soft flannel blanket spread out on the grass with a few small pillows resting against the trunk of the tree. Another blanket was draped across a picnic basket, the bookmarked copy of Pride & Prejudice topping it all.

Hermione glanced up into Draco's eyes, sparkling in the moonlight, and felt breathless. The man in question rubbed the back of his neck nervously, a sheepish grin on his handsome face. "The meteor showers won't start for another hour and a half or so, and I thought maybe you'd enjoy me reading to you again while we were waiting. Tilly helped me pack a few things to eat and drink, as well. I know it's not the most extravagant of dates I could take you on by far, but when I thought of you, it was all I could picture."

It never failed to amaze Hermione, how much this man before her could make her feel. She felt wanted and cherished, his careful and thoughtful planning making her feel like a princess being courted by a prince. Who said fairy tales didn't exist? They obviously didn't know Draco Malfoy. "It's absolutely perfect, Draco," Hermione affirmed. Taking hold of both his hands, the witch pulled him down on the blanket with her, before settling between his legs with her back to his chest.

Removing the book and blanket from the lid of the basket, Draco opened it and pulled out two champagne flutes and the chilled bottle. Hermione's brows wiggled playfully as she looked over her shoulder to meet Draco's eyes. He laughed at her silliness and pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning his attention to uncorking the bottle. Hermione took out the heavy container of sun-ripened strawberries and her mouth watered at the thought of the complimentary flavors.

Draco looked back up after popping the cork, with a smile at the sound of another excited squeal from his witch. "Thank you, Tilly!" Hermione called out gleefully and turned to show him the mousse the elf had snuck in amongst the other treats.

"I'm not sure if I should be jealous or not," Draco teased as he poured them each a glass of the bubbly drink. "I think Tilly loves you more than she loves me."

Hermione maturely stuck out her tongue as she accepted the glass from Draco, and his chuckle created a bubble of pleasant warmth to blossom low in her belly. Reclining against his chest once more, Hermione kicked off the strappy sandals Narcissa had slipped on her feet earlier and wiggled her bare toes against the softness of the blanket under them. She felt Draco press a kiss to her temple before taking a slow pull from his glass. Setting it down beside the book, Draco picked up the tome and opened it to the bookmarked page, then smoothing his free hand over her glossy curls, he began to read, transporting them both to the world held within the pages.

Possibly the most tranquil she'd ever been, Hermione listened to Draco's voice rumble through his chest against her back. Occasionally pausing to accept a bite of juicy strawberry or to take a drink from his glass, or to set the book down and feed her spoonful after spoonful of the decadent chocolate dessert. His stare had turned dark and smouldering watching her wrap her lips around the spoon and licking it clean. Hermione couldn't deny the small thrill that ran through her, knowing something so very innocent could have him burning with passion for her.

The two were fully absorbed in each other's presence when the first ray of light streaked across the inky blackness of the night sky. Draco had almost missed it, entranced as he was with the way Hermione was winding one of her curls around and around one of her small fingers. But her gasp of delight and the streak of light in the corner of his vision, thankfully alerted him and he was able to snap out of it. Eyes turned heavenward, the couple held onto one another as the sky came alive.

Hermione's curls fell to one side as she tilted her head, surveying the stars streaking across the sky and Draco's lips were drawn to the newly exposed skin. Soft, open-mouthed kisses were dragged along her neck, over the line of her jaw only pausing to suckle at the overly sensitive spot behind her ear which ripped a rather loud moan from her lips in comparison to the otherwise gentle quiet sounds of the night. Draco tightened his hold around her middle and buried his face in the space where her neck met her shoulder and groaned, long and low.

Emboldened by the sound, Hermione turned in the circle of his arms and straddled his lap, pulling the hem of her dress above her knees in order to do so. Draco's hands immediately dropped to knead the exposed flesh, as Hermione wrapped his tie around her fist and pulled him into her, slanting her lips over his in a desperate and needy kiss. Draco eagerly returned the kiss, his hands rubbing up and down Hermione's thighs. Each pass going higher and higher until his fingertips were brushing against her hip bones.

Gasping for air as she broke their kiss, Hermione licked and nibbled at the pale skin of his neck. "I love you," she murmured against the shell of Draco's ear and he moaned in response, his hips rocking up against her. Her gasp echoed in the quiet night air around them, and Draco took advantage of the moment, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply, sliding his tongue into her mouth with sinful purpose. Hermione's tiny hands fell to his chest while her hips rolled, grinding her lace knickers against the growing bulge in his trousers.

"Love you so much," Draco rasped against her lips completely enraptured by the brunette beauty writhing on his lap. Hermione's slightly shaking fingers made quick work of the three button vest he wore, and Draco's body trembled with desire for what was to come. The sudden sound of ripping fabric registered to both their ears, though Draco dismissed it in the haze of lust and love until Hermione's sweet, awestruck voice rang in his ears, "Merlin, Draco. Your wings."

Lit with an ethereal glow from the moonlight, his wings spread wide behind him, Draco had never more resembled a fallen angel as he did at that moment. Hermione reached out, trailing her fingers over the downy-soft, white feathers and Draco shivered with pleasure. "Gods, you're beautiful," Hermione breathed, staring into his eyes with so much love and sincerity shining in her gaze, Draco couldn't help but release a tortured sounding groan while crushing her against his chest and attacking her lips with an ardent fervor.

The remains of his white shirt were readily and easily discarded and his teeth gently nipped at Hermione's kiss-swollen lips as her soft hands explored the hard planes or his chest and abdomen. The air around them felt heavy and laden with magic, crackling against their exposed skin like a livewire, further driving their need to be closer, skin to skin, coming together as one. Draco moved to his knees, shifting Hermione carefully off his lap before standing and bringing her body up along with his own.

Running his fingers down the smooth skin of her arms, Draco marvelled at the gooseflesh that trailed in their wake. Hermione's soulful brown eyes stared up at him as he lowered the zip of her dress and slowly eased the straps of her dress down the path his fingers had just traced. She sucked in a deep breath of the crisp night air, feeling her bare breasts tighten and pebble against the sudden chill. With her dress pooled around her bare feet, leaving her in only her lacy knickers, Hermione stepped out of the circle of her dress - allowing Draco to collect it and drape it carefully over the basket.

Hermione's hands felt to the buckle of his belt, working the supple dragonhide through the loop and away from his hips and Draco cupped her heavy, desire-laden breasts in his large hands. He groaned and gently bucked his hips at the feel of her puckered nipples brushing against his palms. With a soft thunk, Draco's trousers and belt hit the soft ground beneath them and he stepped out of them, backing his witch toward the blanket before scooping her up in his arms. He muffled the startled noise she made with his lips as he laid her back on the flannel fabric, lining their bodies up just so.

His wings hovered protectively around them as Draco took a nipple into his worshipping mouth and suckled with increasing pressure, spurred on by Hermione's mewling sounds of pleasure. A faint, but growing ever stronger, golden glow began to light the lush canopy from within. Draco was briefly mesmerized by the flickering light highlighting the curve of Hermione's small waist, and the swells of her breasts. But when he met her soft eyes, and found them to be reflecting that same golden glow, turning them a sparkling topaz - the Veela chanced a look around them and was shocked to find hundreds of fireflies settled within the wispy branches, small pulses of bright light twinkling all around them.

Hermione's own awestruck stare took in the unlikely sight and she could only guess the fireflies had been attracted to the magic she could feel swirling in the air around them. As Draco placed a wet kiss at the hollow of her throat, the witch moaned and arched under him, his tender affections slowly driving her mad with desire. His fingers drifted over the soft swell of her stomach and toyed with the hem of her lacy knickers for several long moments.

"Please," the whimpered plea escaped Hermione's lips before she could stop it and his answering groan caused her panties to dampen with want. Draco's long, elegant fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her knickers and into the wet heat between her thighs, moaning as one long digit easily slid inside her sucking warmth, finding her already wet and wanting. Teasing the opposite nipple with his tongue, Draco slowly pumped his finger in and out of Hermione's tight hole, making her gasp his name over and over as he stoked the embers of desire burning low in her belly.

Burying her hands in his soft locks and tugging, Hermione pulled his mouth to her own with a low groan. Draco's tongue plunged into her mouth in perfect sync with his finger, before slowly adding another and stretching her tight pussy in gentle preparation for his much larger cock. Hermione gasped and rocked against his hand, the deliriously pleasurable tingles beginning to crawl up her legs and toward the ball of tension winding tighter and tighter around itself within her womb. Her legs began to tremble and her body quivered beneath his causing Draco to grunt and curl his fingers inside her searching for the elusive expanse of spongy flesh that drives women wild.

"Yes, love," he crooned to her panting form. Hermione clawed at his muscular shoulders bowing her back away from the blanket. "Cum for me, love. Let me see you break apart," his seductive whispers had her coming apart at the seams, chanting his name like a moaning prayer. Hermione's body quaked from the force of her orgasm, shaking and trembling against the body of her lover without any shame. And Draco basked in all her unencumbered glory, burning the sight of her with her head thrown back, mouth open and calling his name as he brought her to and over the edge into his memory, never wanting to forget how beautiful she looked in that moment.

As Hermione caught her breath, her Veela slowly pulled her knickers down over the swell of her arse and hips and off her legs before pulling his shorts down below his knees and kicking them off to the side. The witch stared up at Draco, kneeling between her legs, his erection tall and proud straining towards her welcoming heat. As he caught her lingering gaze, he puffed out his chest and his wings ruffled pridefully before spreading wide behind him.

Hermione had to bite down on her bottom lip to hide the smile that wished to split her lips at the typical male behavior, peacocking for his preferred mate. Instead, she held her arms out to Draco and called softly to him, "Love me, please?" He was over her in the next moment, dropping soft kisses to her forehead, cheeks, nose and finally lingering on her lips. "Gladly," he moaned as she opened her mouth to him and brushed her sweet tongue against his. Draco couldn't resist the urge to shift his hips against the wet heat his cock was nestled against and twin moans left the pair at the delightful friction.

Hermione rolled her hips, causing Draco's cock to slide between her wet lips and catch at her opening. Ever the gentleman his mother raised him to be, Draco met Hermione's eyes and at her subtle nod carefully watched every minute change in her expression as he slowly pushed the thick head of his shaft inside her velvet warmth. He bit his lower lip hard, stifling the loud groan building in his chest. Slowly, so slowly, he worked himself further inside her, pausing only when he hit the barrier marking her innocence.

Hermione had never felt so full, or so stretched before. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation by far and large, but she knew Draco was only roughly halfway in and that the not so nice part was quickly approaching. His lips covered hers in a soothing, passionate kiss involving teeth and tongue as his fingers sought out the little button at the apex of her sex and began rubbing fast circles against it with steadily increasing pressure. Hermione panted against his lips as she felt another bubble of pleasure rapidly grow low in her belly, before bursting and sending her careening over the edge of orgasmic bliss once more.

When her pussy walls clenched tightly around his cock, Draco's eyes rolled back in his skull for just a second but he quickly refocused, thrusting sharply the moment her gripping inner muscles loosened and tore through her hymen to bury his cock inside her to the hilt. Still reeling from her ongoing orgasm, Hermione briefly registered the burning, stinging pain of her innocence tearing away but then she was so wonderfully full, and Draco's body was trembling above hers, his short, sharp breaths against the skin of her neck sending a shiver throughout her body. Pulling out slightly and sliding back inside, Draco let out a low moan at the feel of Hermione beneath him, and all around him.

"Merlin and Morgana, Hermione," he ground out, voice ragged with unbridled desire. "I never imagined, it feels...I, you," his words were a jumbled mess as his hips began thrusting, setting a slow but steady rhythm between them. "There are no words for how incredible it feels, being buried inside you," his growled words and the ever-deepening strokes of his cock pulled a long, loud moan from her chest. Draco's hands pulled Hermione's from his shoulders and entwined their fingers, lifting both pairs above her head as he slid his body over hers again and again, the sinuous movement reminding her of the snake he was and bringing a delighted grin to her lips.

He didn't know why she was smiling, couldn't possibly know her inner-most thoughts, but the sheer joy and love radiating through the bond spoke true to a deeper kind of contentment that had him whispering words and promises of forever against those swollen, smiling lips of Hermione's.

"I'll love you all the days of my life," Draco vowed, sealing the promise with a swift kiss to her lips. Hermione hummed against his lips, smile turning small and soft. "And I'll love you for all of mine," her quiet words turned into a groan when Draco changed the angle of his hips and his cock stroked a deep, hidden place inside her that sent molten heat coursing through her veins.

"Oh god, Draco," Hermione purred as she arched further against him, grinding their hips together. Small grunts left him with every movement. His own growling purr echoed her small one, plunging in and out of her depths faster, driving them both steadily closer towards bliss.

"Promise you'll never leave me," Draco groaned in a moment of weakness, showing that rare vulnerability that Hermione loved fiercely. She nodded, moaning as her womb tightened with growing desire. "I promise, I promise," she breathed, wrapping her lean legs around his hips and causing him to slide further, deeper inside.

"Gods," he whined low in the back of his throat, momentarily overwhelmed by his emotions, her emotions, the feel of her pussy encasing him with its indescribable wet heat. "Everything I have is yours, Hermione," Draco panted, pressing his forehead against hers and staring into her shining eyes. "Anything you want, name it and I'll get it for you. Let me care for you, love," he pled as he pressed kiss after kiss to her soft lips.

"Yes," Hermione moaned into the kiss. "Yes, okay. Gods, Draco." She was lost in the rising pleasure his body was giving her. She felt her magic unspooling and spreading outwardly around Draco, tying the two of them together in an ancient way. He gasped at the feel of it, readily allowing his magic to do the same, thrusting deeper, and harder into his witch than he'd allowed himself before.

So lost in one another, neither of the two lovers noticed the sudden influx of falling stars in the sky, nor the young unicorn foal, with a coat of pure iridescent white, wandering out of the thick woods towards the lake, seeking the quench its thirst.

Instead, Draco had his lips pressed against Hermione's jugular, feeling her pulse fluttering underneath her skin. Her inner muscles were starting to flutter around his shaft and he knew her orgasm was seconds away, and instinct took over. In the next moment, fangs Draco had never felt before descended from his gums and he was biting through her tender flesh, flooding her veins with his very essence before licking the wound to seal it.

Several things happened at the exact same moment.

Hermione burst apart into a million tiny particles and slowly came together piece by piece.

The unicorn foal turned in the couple's direction, drawn to the pure, light magic rolling off the pair in waves.

A falling star glanced off the unicorn's horn bathing the couple in glowing, shimmering stardust. Lost as they were, both being twisted, reshaped by their bodies straining against one another, aching for their mutual release - they didn't notice the sudden pulsing heat over their left hip bones, the matching runes, taking on an iridescent shimmer, cementing their whispered promises of forever, indelibly on their skin.

Draco pistoned his cock inside Hermione's gripping sheath once, twice, three more times before crying out her name and trembling as thick spurts of his seed erupted deep inside her still spasming core. He tried and failed to hold himself up on shaking, weak arms but ultimately ended up collapsing against Hermione's naked body. Hand groping blindly at their side, Draco grunted as he felt the softness of the extra blanket against the flesh of his palm.

He shook the blanket out over their bodies, rolling so Hermione lay over him, her sex-mussed curls framing her face in a wild halo. His hands smoothed up and down the curve of her spine, as words failed him. Draco felt the urgent need to say something, anything to this witch that had ensnared him, heart and soul - but no words or praise or love fell from his lips. His entire being radiated the contentment and soul lifting happiness, but the moment they'd just shared together had seemingly struck him dumb.

"You're so happy," Hermione whispered quietly, afraid to break the quiet spell the night had cast around them. When he met her bright-eyed stare, he felt his happiness echoed by her own and his slow smile was unavoidable.

"I really am," Draco concurred as he wound his arms tightly around his witch. In this moment, beneath this witch - his mate, he'd never believed happiness like this was meant for the likes of him. But with those joyous, shining eyes twinkling down at him from above, Draco felt himself beginning to believe it. Hermione Granger was his mate, and they were bonded for life. He never had to let her go, which until that very moment, Draco hadn't realized had been a large, looming fear, ever present on his horizon - ready, willing and able to plunge his world into everlasting darkness.

With Hermione by his side, for the rest of their days, that looming shadow couldn't even come close. Making a happy humming sound, his witch glanced around their hidden spot under their willow. He watched with a small smirk as her brow furrowed in confusion before blinking down at her chest and shoulders.

"Draco," she murmured steadily unwilling to lower their sky-high moods with her insatiable curiosity. "What is this...powder all over the both of us, and...everywhere?" Hermione breathed, looking through the open canopy and meeting the unblinking stare of a gorgeous unicorn foal.

Hermione's body freezing, all her joints locking into place and the quick and sudden silence of her breathing startled Draco and his attention narrowed in on her, her heartbeat thundering reassuringly in his ears. Ba bum, ba bum, ba bi bum, ba bum, ba bi bum. He winced at the extra little beat, one that was out of place in her regular, resting rhythm. Draco would know, he'd spent so many nights focused on the slow, steady beat of her heart hidden away behind a heavy oak door, just across the hall from his own. That sound became his touchstone in a world that seemed to spin madly out of his control at any one moment's notice. Any irregularity threw off his peaceful countenance like a snake sheds his skin. One moment Draco was on top of the world, the next he was holding his mate protectively within the cage of his arms, ready to rip whoever and whatever was causing her any distress limb from limb.

"Hermione?" Draco breathed as panic began to freeze the blood in his veins. "Love, what's wrong?" His blind panic turned into a sort of pained indignation when his mate gently shushed him. Feeling his hurt through the bond brought her warm eyes back to him, searching to find what had changed so rapidly within him. Seeing his sullen expression, Hermione sighed quietly with a barely perceptible shake of her head.

"Look out toward the lake, Draco," her lips barely moved and Draco wasn't even sure how he heard her words with so very little sound behind them. Still, his eyes immediately moved to the open space in the willow's branches and his breath caught in his throat. No wonder she'd been trying to stay still and silent as possible. He'd seen a rare unicorn on the property before when he was much younger and long before the Dark Lord's vicious taint seeped into the Manor's once fertile and teeming earth.

Draco took in the foal's still knobby knees, though they looked strong and steady beneath it. Then he took in the size of the foal's head in comparison to the rest of its body. Finally, his eyes, shining silver in the bright moonlight, unobscured by England's usual cloud cover, came to rest on the foal's pearlescent horn also winking in the bright, pale light. Taking into account the distance the foal stood away from the in flagrante delicto couple, Draco judged the length to be roughly the same as the tip of his longest finger to his elbow.

"The mother must be close by," Draco breathed against the shell of Hermione's ear, delighting in being able to share some small amount of knowledge with his know-it-all mate. His passion for the Abraxans, and all horses really if the Veela were to be entirely honest, leant him the ability to teach his eager witch something new, and he knew Hermione would appreciate that more than most of the finest jewels found on Earth. "By its size and the length of its horn, I'd bet a hundred Galleons it was born close to Easter."

"It's just so beautiful. I'm surprised it's still here, we weren't exactly being quiet before." Draco was forced to press his lips into a hard line to stifle the chuckle itching to burst free from his chest.

"It wouldn't surprise me if it wasn't attracted to your magic when you let it unspool from within your core outward. Your magic is unlike anything I've ever felt before, Hermione," Draco whispered seriously, once again losing himself in the endless depths of her warm, honey-flecked, chocolate eyes. "Every part of you is good. The light within you." He placed his warm hand in the center of her chest, feeling the steady thump against the palm of his hand. "I swear it's bright enough to chase away even the darkest of shadows. You amaze me, Hermione Granger. I love you." It was hard sounding fierce and powerful while talking in careful whispers, but somehow Draco managed to pull it off.

"I love you," Hermione whispered just as fiercely and covered his much larger hand with her own. Draco smiled, still reeling over the fact that this witch was his, and his alone for the rest of their lives. Okay, he would share with her family and friends but when it came to matters concerning his witch and her precious heart, Draco couldn't be held accountable for his actions. His eyes dropped to their hands, hers much smaller with a deep golden hue to her skin, where his remained a near-translucent pale porcelain.

Just as his thumb brushed over the flesh covering her sternum, something just above Hermione's left breast glinted in the moon's ethereal glow. Draco blinked, shook his head, and blinked again. It was still there. He pulled his hand out from under hers and dragged the pad of his thumb across the delicate pattern decorating the skin just above the swell of her breast. He nuzzled, licked, cupped, teased and dreamed about his witch's superb tits. He knew them like the back of his hand, certain he could pick her perky, perfect handful out of a line-up with no trouble whatsoever.

"Hermione?" His voice sounded distant and odd to his own ears. "Why is there a constellation above your left breast? My constellation?" Once again his thumb brushed over the pattern on her skin only this time he felt a tug low in his abdomen. Draco hadn't been able to stare lovingly at his mark on her neck, yet. He knew his mark on her body would be a powerful and meaningful symbol of their bond; as permanent and everlasting as their love itself. But this visceral reaction to this smattering of pale starbursts, inking out the simple shape of a dragon, situated right next to her heart as if it were it's constant guardian?

Draco felt certain his heart might just beat out of his chest.

Hermione's eyes had followed the path of his thumb, seeing the constellation winking up at her - the slight iridescence picking up any and all light and bouncing it back from where it came. She swallowed the unnecessary nerves. What was the worst that could come from this, she asked herself? That she had a special, slightly shimmering tattoo above her breast? One that her Veela appreciated if the smouldering embers of desire backlighting his grey eyes was any indication of Draco's personal feelings on the matter.

It was the final slow, sweep of his thumb that changed everything.

One innocent gesture: a man bewitched and enraptured by the body of his woman, shifted his left arm slightly to drag the pad of his thumb down over the new, lovely mark on her skin instead of brushing across it from side to side - to see if he could feel any raised edges or rough, bumpy skin offering some explanation. His witch, tracking the movement of his hand with her eyes, thought about how out of all marks on the body that a person wasn't born with and didn't ask for, she'd probably fallen in the luckier half of the group. With a painful lurch in her heart preceding her next action, the witch glanced over the man's left forearm, slowly teaching herself to become numb to the black swirling mass staining the otherwise pale perfection of his alabaster skin.

Only it wasn't there.

Draco gasped under the sudden onslaught of emotions from Hermione ranging everywhere from panic down to mild concern to overwhelming joy immediately buoyed by nervous anticipation. Framing her cheeks with his broom calloused hands, he gazed at his witch with a tiny seed of frustration blooming in his gut. Already he longed for the calm surety he'd felt earlier. Draco watched as her eyes fought to stay locked on his own. He felt a deep groove appear on his forehead as his features twisted with confusion.

Hermione blinked several times, fighting the urge to marvel at his bare, pale skin. She watched as Draco's lips turned down into a frown, and a barely perceptible sigh escaped her lips. Forgetting herself for only a second, Hermione's eyes flitted to unmarked flesh of his left forearm before returning her attention to her Veela. Draco's hands fell away from her face with a loud gasping breath.

The brunette witch chewed on her bottom lip nervously, twisting her fingers together and only then realizing how awkward their position could turn, but unwilling to allow pesky insecurities distract her when it was obvious Draco needed her. With his right hand cradling his left arm, occasionally poking and prodding the spot he knew his mark should be, the young Veela only stared in uncomprehending, wide-eyed wonder. Hermione's arms twitched with the urge to comfort her mate. She was sure the only other time she'd witnessed this expression on his face had been when she first told him that she loved him.

Wonder. Metered hope. A guarded, yet radiant happiness shining outwardly from within his very soul.

He was breathtaking, her beautiful shadow of a man and she felt as if she were watching him brave a step into the brilliant sun's warm rays of light for the first time. And instead of being left wanting, dismissed and chased away by the light - it bathed him in its warmth and cleansed him of the lingering darkness tainting his otherwise pristine and glorious soul.

"Where did it go?" Draco's whisper echoed in Hermione's ears and she could only offer a shake of her head, reaching out slowly to run her fingers over the unstained skin.

"I don't know, love," her response was just as quiet. Hermione searched his face, breathing a sigh of relief when she found no negativity marring his handsome features. Hermione looked beyond the branches of their cherished, hidden paradise. Beyond the winking fireflies settled among the wispy, dangling greenery adding to the otherworldly and romantic atmosphere. Her eyes settled of the moonlight reflecting off the surface of the crystal blue water of the lake, like a million glittering diamonds undulating towards the shore - sharing one brief kiss only to be cast off and out; repeat the cycle endlessly.

The foal had moved away, close to the water's edge and Hermione saw the mother unicorn breaking through the dark tree line in search of her young. Frowning thoughtfully, the witch looked up at the never-ending inky sky. Shining streaks of light still fell from the Heavens, their rapid descent to Earth leaving Hermione feeling small and inconsequential in the sight of such epic majesty all around her. It would have been so easy to get carried away with all the magic in the air, to allow the pervasive sense of joy and renewal all around them to strip her concerns away and accept the unbridled joy and passion she felt thrumming along her skin.

It was such a special evening, after all. But one look back at her pale, muscular wizard and Hermione's analytical mind stirred awake from its post-coital nap and began studying everything around her with the critical eyes of a genius. Tracing her fingers further up and over the skin of his arms, along the curvature of his bulging bicep, and over one of those sublime shoulders of his (Hermione may have had to choke back a low moan as heat surged in her abdomen at the thought of gripping them as Draco thrust powerfully and deeply inside her. Possibly.) only to pull away with those luminous particles coating each digit.

"Granger." A pleasant thrill ran through Hermione at the use of her given name. What an incredible a difference from mere months ago. "Please stand up for me and drop the blanket, love."

The witch, still mulling over the iridescent particles clinging to her skin and rubbing them between her index and middle fingers with her thumb, raised a brow at her mate's polite command but stood to allow the soft blanket to fall away from her body and pool at her feet. Feeling Draco's heated gaze travelling over her naked body, Hermione spun around and even wiggled her bum slightly with a laugh.

"Enjoying the view, Mister Malfoy?" Her words were playful and flirtatious but slightly detached as her brain's synapses were lighting up and firing off bits of stored knowledge at a rate that would cause most mortals to bend and break under the onslaught of information.

"Turn back around, Hermione."

It was the way Draco said it. His voice hoarse and filled with emotion. The serious and weighty tone of voice that bore no argument.

She turned so that her front was once again bare for his perusal, only to find Draco's eyes glued to her left hip, right where the bone protruded just slightly outward from the rest. His trembling hand frozen in the air mere centimeters away from the exposed skin. Hermione swallowed nervously around a sudden lump in her throat and she shut her eyes, keeping them tightly closed as if that would shield her from whatever blow was incoming.

"How is this possible?" Draco murmured dazedly. Then, quick as a flash, he was on his feet peering down at his left hip. Hermione bit her lip at the sight of his beautiful cock, dangling thick and proud and semi-erect between his legs, but shook herself out of her trance when she caught the movement of his hand brushing over his left hip, in an almost worshipful fashion. That's when she saw the mark, slightly opalescent much like the dragon constellation protecting her heart from harm.

Feeling very slow on the uptake, Hermione eyed her hip and gasped out loud. An identical rune winked back at her from her left hip bone and the memory of an almost burning (soothing and sensual instead of painful) warmth erupting in that exact spot as she and Draco came undone in one another's arms. All the air left her lungs as she blinked at the interlinking design, a triquetra entwined with a lover's heart.

The soulmate rune.

All their whispered words of devotion and promises of forever reverberated in her mind. Her heart stopped. Then jumped in her chest and took off at a pace that rivalled the flapping of a hummingbird's wings. Hermione blinked and narrowed her eyes at the rune, then with at her coated, shimmering finger-tips. Puzzle pieces began to move into place in her mind's eye and she grabbed those shoulders she adored so much and stared into Draco's own calculating stare, watching as understanding began to sink in.

It was crazy.

Insane.

Utterly barmy.

"Muggle Catholics, one of many religions muggles have, well, Catholics refer to the Perseids meteor shower as the Tears of Saint Lawrence," Hermione announced apropos of nothing. Draco gave her a look that clearly questioned her mental prowess at the moment. "I've read that merely bearing witness to a unicorn foal is extremely rare and considered a blessing bestowed upon the person that saw it. I'm only assuming these lovely fireflies were attracted to the magic I swear I can feel in the air and on my skin. Draco…" Her small, pink tongue peeked out to wet her lips, which only served as a whet for her Veela, whose semi-erect cock stiffened further at the sight. "What if…" but she allowed her voice to trail off as her fingers ran over the, admittedly, gorgeous rune adorning Draco's hip bone.

Soulmate.

The man in question swallowed back a groan at the soft touch against his skin, so very close to his straining erection and yet still so far away. Draco closed his eyes and willed his very recently awakened libido to stand down. Much more important things needed to happen first, like his witch finishing her undoubtedly brilliant train of thought. Not only his witch. Not only his mate.

Apparently the Greater Powers That Be, the very Magicks that birthed the magic in his blood, a gift offered to man eons before - accepted those vows made between himself and Hermione. And, oh Merlin, when their magic unspooled and bound their magical cores together, a part of the Veela mating ritual - those Greater Powers witnessed the purity and love behind the promises made, and in a tradition that dated back to when magic began manifesting in men, bound their souls together in matrimony leaving an indelible rune on the bodies.

Hermione was, by the stars and the earth, his wife.

"What if?" Draco prompted gently, pulling her naked curves into his arms and against the much harder planes of his body. One hand danced along her spine as if it were tickling the ivory keys of a piano. The other lovingly traced the constellation above her swollen, heavy breast. Oh dear, merciful Morgana, he wanted her again. Desperately. It had to wait, he reminded himself sternly.

"What if this magic all around us is your familial magic? What if all of this was some kind of divine blessing? I - I can't be sure, but Draco, there are just so many aspects that when pieced together would make sense of so much of what we just experienced," Hermione was nearly panting with excitement. She loved a good mystery, the joy of discovering and deciphering all the clues, and the everlasting knowledge gained when all was said and done. Well that, and the heat emanating from Draco. Every inch of skin on skin felt aflame with desire.

"I think this might be stardust," Hermione wasn't proud of how breathless she sounded nor the way she pressed closer, clearly affected by him and just as eager to return to more passionate endeavors. She held up the hand covered in the shimmery substance, "It's all over your back and I'm sure I'll never get it all washed out of my hair. I can't be sure of what happened, but - well, I think it might been a thank you, Draco."

"What would the ancestral magic have to thank me for though? It's not like my family or me, say, defeated a dark wizard and saved the world from imminent destruction." His words were dry and so typically Draco, Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. Pressing up on her tiptoes, she moaned softly as her nipples dragged along the skin of his chest, she kissed Draco's chin and gazed into his eyes adoringly, "No, you didn't do that. What you did do was bear witness to nightmarish and gruesome things within the sanctuary of your own home. That is until Harry, Ron and I were dragged here over Easter."

"Please, don't…" his plea was so plaintive, Hermione almost let it go. But Draco needed to hear this, just as much as she needed to say it.

"God Draco, the expression on your face when Bellatrix was standing over me. I was watching you, you know?" She tenderly brushed her fingers along his jawline. Tears burned the corners of her eyes but the witch refused to let them fall. "I could see the conflict in you so clearly. And then you fell against your mother, that's when I noticed your parents standing there. Your mother looked at me and started to cry. Lucius, I've never seen him look so horrified and guilty. Narcissa, she gave Lucius her wand and he…" the words stuck in her throat, but she refused to be deterred. "Your whole family chose the light at that moment, Draco. Your father cast the Killing Curse, but it was to save the life of someone else. Your parents, on our behalf, defected from the darkness that surrounded the Manor for so long and for selfless reasons. They did it because of their love for you. To save the one you were destined to love. You ancestral magic would have recognized that, Draco."

Draco stared at his witch for a long time mulling over her words. It wasn't that he thought Hermione was wrong, he'd known her long enough to know that if she had a theory, it was almost always correct. And, oh, how Draco wanted to believe her. Closing his eyes, he went back over the past few months beginning with that disastrous Easter.

They hadn't returned to the Manor until Voldemort had fallen during the Final Battle. It had been nearing sunrise by the time the sweeps for dark curses and traps meant to maim and kill were completed. Draco could clearly remember feeling lighter, attributed to the fight being won, but he could also recall the first golden rays of light cresting the horizon and brightening the grounds of his ancestral home and thinking they too seemed lighter somehow, vibrant in a way he hadn't seen in ages.

Quick flashes of memory blinded Draco momentarily: His mother's blooms, larger and more fragrant than he could ever remember. The peacocks and how peaceful and pleasant they had become when all of his previous memories of the birds were terrifying. Even Eros seemed happier and stronger since their return. Draco's magic had felt stronger and more settled, as well. Though he had believed it to be the Veela strengthening and stabilizing his power, why couldn't it be both?

"I think you're right," Draco murmured, eyeing his mark on her neck with shining eyes, before crashing his lips to hers and sighing in relief the moment her tongue traced the seam, allowing Hermione to deepen the kiss and quench a minute amount of his desire for her. Only when their lungs were screaming at the pair for oxygen, did they break apart. Draco's left hand slowly trailed down her body, along the curve of her breast and down dip in her waist, until his hand wrapped around her hip. Thumb stroking over the rune, he smirked against Hermione's lips, "Wife."

The witch gave him a look of utter exasperation until she once again admired his matching rune, and the (mostly feigned) annoyance melted away into a soft, glorious smile. Hermione covered his mark with her hand, met his eyes once more with a sheepish shrug and a nod, "Husband."

The sun was steadily rising in the sky before the couple made it back to the Manor the following morning.

* * *

"Are you nervous?" Draco murmured next to her ear, his chin resting on her shoulder and arms wrapped around her middle, one hand inconspicuously cradling her runed hip. His eyes dropped to the sparkling solitaire whose platinum band was encrusted with emeralds adorning the fourth finger on her left hand with a smirk. Once they returned to the Manor that mid-August morning, they'd immediately shared the pertinent details of the previous evening. Narcissa and Lucius had been thrilled and crushed them with hugs, each of his parents taking a moment to welcome their new daughter-in-law to the family.

And then they began planning 'The Wedding of the Century.'

Because it simply wouldn't do to tell everyone such a personal story, accidental if not fortuitous marriage included.

Draco knew he could have gone to their family vaults and had his pick of fancy baubles from any era. But instead he went to his father and explained what he had in mind and the pair had sneaked away unnoticed, going from shop to shop until they found exactly what Draco imagined Hermione wearing all the days of her life. It was simpler than what a Malfoy would typically give, but Draco knew his witch. The delicate, dainty band and sun-catching sparkler, highlighted by tiny dots of green fire was inarguably beautiful.

Hermione had still declared she didn't even need a ring. She had a sparkling rune to remind her of who held her heart and soul. But with a giggle that never failed to make Draco's heart race, she had allowed him to slip the jewelry on and agreed that she would indeed marry him, again.

"Why would I be nervous?" Hermione grinned over her shoulder at him, lowering the book she'd been skimming. Lush green countryside blurred by the window behind her. Ron and Harry were bent over an intense game of Wizard's Chess at the far end of the bench, with Ginny resting her head on Harry's shoulder watching the match quietly. It was peaceful. Happy. Safe.

"It's our last year at Hogwarts. One last year to be children before we go off into the big, bad adult world full of responsibilities. The wedding is just after graduation and everyone knows that we're engaged. That's not even mentioning N.E.W.T.s," Draco rattled off playfully, wrapping one of her illustrious curls around his finger and watching it unfurl before a stray beam of sunlight cut through the cloud cover and caught the head of his constellation peeking out of the unbuttoned portion of Hermione's blouse. He shifted to brush his lips over his mark on his neck and tightened his arms around her small frame.

"I have you by my side, Draco," Hermione breathed while her toes curled inside her Mary Janes. She closed her eyes and breathed in his spicy cologne and a scent that was uniquely Draco, parchment, apples, and the rich, earthy scent of their willow. Her own brand of Amortentia. Leaning further into his embrace, Hermione let the gentle rocking of the train lull her into that peaceful in-between of sleep and awake. "I'm not scared of anything so long as I have you, silly."

"I love you," Draco said fervently, his lips brushing her neck with each word. "You make everything better, Hermione. I love you so fucking much."

A dazzling smile split her lips, even in her sleepy state, and Hermione hummed happily.

"I love you, too, Draco. So fucking much." And her heart thrilled at the wondrous sound of his laughter, the rumbles of it in his chest shaking them both. Hermione rarely ever cursed, but she'd be willing to do it more often if that laugh was her reward.

All was well.

* * *

 _Notes_ :

I own nothing recognisable above. That honor goes to JK Rowling. I do however love these characters with a fiery passion that rivals the sun. Hope you enjoyed the read.

xx - otterly


End file.
